The Way of Vengeance
by MBradford
Summary: Sequel to "In Safekeeping". Rushford Bramblethorn was exiled to Bree for his attack on Frodo. He wants to return and decides to kidnap Frodo and force him to sign a document retracting his testimony.
1. From Shadows Returning

Title: The Way of Vengeance ~*~The Return of Rushford Bramblethorn~*~  
  
Author: Mbradford  
  
Rating: R for violence, non-consensual slash implications , light Frodo/Sam  
  
Disclaimer: Again, I don't own them, with the exception of Rushford Bramblethorn. He's my fault. I also invented an Inn in Bywater.  
  
Summary: Sequel to "In Safekeeping". Rushford Bramblethorn has been banished from the Shire for his attack on Frodo Baggins two years previously. Tired of exile in Bree, he wishes to return to the Shire. He kidnaps Frodo, intending to force him to recant his testimony against him.  
  
Author's notes: This story is the sequel/continuation of "In Safekeeping". It was not part of the original plan to continue that story, but comments in reviews indicated the original was too short! Thanks to Endymion for making that comment, which set those plotbunnies loose again!  
  
If you have not read "In Safekeeping", this story will still make some sense, but you will likely understand it better if you check out the one that spawned it. (Shameless story plugging!!!)  
  
Finally, apologies in advance for any careless destruction of canon (up to and including expansion of the powers of the Mayor), warping of the fabric of time and space, or other foolish transgressions.  
Chapter 1 - From Shadows Returning  
  
THE PAST - Shire Reckoning 1401  
  
From "In Safekeeping" Chapter 3  
  
~*~ Sam knew then that Frodo was in trouble. A scholarly hobbit who treated his books with loving care, Frodo would never leave a book lying on the ground. Sam picked the book up carefully, holding it in his hands as if it were a tiny, wounded bird. "Mr. Frodo," he whispered. "Where have you gone to?"  
  
Voices! Sam thought he had heard voices! Being careful not to make a sound, he moved slowly through the trees in the direction the sound had come from. The look on his face changed from fear to horror as he heard the exchange between the speakers.  
  
"Keep begging, Frodo. Not that it will do any good, but I like the sound."  
  
Bramblethorn! That - that filthy-minded orc-spawn! Sam could find no adequate epithet in the common tongue that was equal to the task of describing the hideous blight that was Rushford Bramblethorn. His heart nearly stopped to hear Frodo's voice answering, little more than a broken sob.  
  
"P-Please. D-don't do this."  
  
White-hot fury exploded behind Sam's eyes. He cursed himself for not bringing some sort of gardening implement to use as a weapon. It would have to be his bare hands that tore that creature limb from limb. ~*~  
  
THE PRESENT - Shire Reckoning 1403  
  
Bree. Noisy, dirty, overcrowded with big folk. Bree was no place for any self-respecting hobbit, Rushford Bramblethorn reflected bitterly. Bree was, in his case, a punishment - a consequence. He had ended up in this vile place as a result of the Mayor's decree of banishment for what the old fool had termed "crimes against nature".  
  
It all came down to the fact that desire had overcome sensibility, and he had acted upon his impulse. Not that he was sorry - the only thing there was to be sorry for, in his opinion, was the unfortunate appearance of that meddlesome gardener before he could reach the fulfillment of his desire.  
  
Blast Samwise Gamgee! And blast Frodo Baggins, for that matter! Baggins' testimony, witnessed by that wretched servant of his, combined with rumors of past transgressions of a similar nature, had been enough to cause the Mayor to decree Bramblethorn's banishment from the Shire, and he had been marched to the borders by a large group of hobbits with flaming torches. Nothing had been proven, really. In the Shire, absolute proof wasn't always needed. If he were deemed a threat by enough of the prominent citizens, The Rules allowed for him to be cast out.  
  
Bramblethorn stared bitterly at his tankard, then took another swallow of his ale. Frodo Baggins. Blue-eyed, pale, beautiful Frodo, the irresistible creature that had doomed him to dwell in this sewer. He chuckled to himself. Not that his amorous tastes had always included lads, but Frodo was exceptional. He wasn't done with that lovely young imp yet, not by a long shot.  
  
He finished his ale and rose from the table, carelessly dropping a few coins on the tabletop for the barkeep. He strode out the door and down the muddy street, contemplating his plans as he went. Two years in Bree were enough. It was time to go home, and he would be allowed to stay - that was, as soon as Frodo recanted his testimony. And he would recant, Bramblethorn thought, an ugly smirk crossing his face. Oh, he most certainly would!  
  
~*~  
  
Bounders! What a ridiculous bunch of self-important fools, thought Bramblethorn. The Bounders were, in theory, appointed to watch the borders of the Shire for incursions of ill-intentioned big folk, orcs and the like. Bramblethorn had not seen a single Bounder as he had skirted the borders of Shire, seeking the shortest route to Bywater. Once across the borders, it would be a simple matter to travel under cover of darkness to the town and prepare for the next phase of his plan.  
  
He would rest for a day or so once he was safely holed up in Bywater. Four days of traveling cross-country from Bree had left him dirty and road- weary. Not that he would find many comforts upon reaching his objective. His proposed lodgings were not luxurious by any standard, but they would do. There were some old, abandoned smials outside the town proper that were all but forgotten, and some were still sound enough to use as decent shelter.  
  
He walked on, moving through the darkness with relative ease. He would get to his shelter, clean up and lay aside some necessary provisions, then make for Hobbiton the next day. Then, the next phase of his plan could be completed. I am coming, Frodo Baggins, he thought with malicious glee. And we shall meet again.  
  
~*~  
  
"The post is here, Mr. Frodo!" Sam's chipper voice filled the kitchen as he entered the room with two letters in his hand. Frodo turned and caught sight of Merry's dignified script on one of the envelopes as Sam placed them on the table. The second was sure to be written in Pippin's somewhat careless scrawl.  
  
"As I thought, Merry and Pippin are confirming their plans to visit this week. They'll be here in a matter of a couple of days, and I'm nowhere near ready for them," Frodo sighed as he slipped the letters back into their envelopes.  
  
"It does take some preparin' when Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are comin' by, I suppose," Sam agreed. "Especially in the pantry, if you follow me," he added, and Frodo laughed.  
  
"Pippin has the appetite of two hobbits at least, and Merry's not much better," he conceded. "I need to air out the guest rooms and make sure there are fresh linens on the beds. I know the garden is keeping you busy, Sam, but could you find time to go to the Market for me?"  
  
"It wouldn't be no bother at all, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied readily. Frodo didn't ask him to do much more than keep the garden, but he made himself available to assist however he could. Without Bilbo there, Frodo was left to take care of Bag End largely on his own. Any help Sam could give him was always welcome, but seldom asked for.  
  
Sam folded the list Frodo gave him and placed it in his vest pocket. It was late morning now and he was ahead of schedule with his chores for the day. It would be no great effort to slip off to the Market in the afternoon, and he would be back by teatime.  
  
Merry and Pippin were scheduled to stay at Bag End for a few days. No special plans had been made, but the idea was to catch up on goings on in Buckland and Tuckborough. Frodo had not seen his cousins since the Yule celebration at Brandy Hall last winter. It was high summer now, and a busy time for both of his cousins. Even so, Merry had been assured by his father, the Master of Buckland, that things would not collapse entirely if he were absent for a short time. Pippin had received similar assurances from his family at the Great Smials, and both had arranged to travel to Hobbiton.  
  
The flurry of preparations at Bag End was well underway, and continued for the remainder of the day. Sam returned from the Market with what he termed enough to feed a legion or Frodo's cousins, whichever showed up first. Guest rooms were readied and the parlor put in order.  
  
It was late in the evening when Frodo tumbled gratefully into bed, sinking into dreams almost as soon as his eyes fluttered closed. Things were, for the most part in order, and all was going as planned.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	2. Let the Games Begin

To the reviewers:  
  
Emma - What is that nasty hobbit planning to do? Plenty! As to Pip's age, I'm likely doing some of that canon-twisting I warned of. I had images from the movie in mind. He was old enough there to be causing havoc at Bilbo's party, so he's old enough to be getting in on the action here. Merry and Pippin will definitely play a part in chapters to come! And how will Bramblethorn get Frodo to recant his testimony? Ahh.read on!  
  
Endymion - Will a certain Ranger make an appearance? Not in this fic, but maybe in another one in the future. This will be an all-hobbit cast of characters.  
  
Mariole - Yes, so far Frodo has been safe. As to the future, please read on. Not promising a smooth ride for our beloved hero, but I can safely say his own creator has put him through worse!  
  
Trilliah - (My beta!) Glad you enjoyed the shift of perspective and contrast in chapter 1 between Bramblethorn's planning and Frodo's. Already tempted to give that villain what he deserves? Ohh, just wait!  
  
Seregon - Angst ahoy! Yes, there will certainly be an element of angst involved throughout.  
The Way of Vengeance  
  
Chapter 2 - Let the Games Begin  
  
Things were going as planned. Bramblethorn looked around at his surroundings with satisfaction. Or at least, he mused, as much satisfaction as a musty, abandoned smial could provide. Some worn furnishings had been left behind by the previous occupants, and the hearth was undamaged. The roof left something to be desired, having cracked in many places, allowing dirt to collect in small piles on the floor beneath the worst of the cracks. Roots from the grass and shrubbery on the hill above hung down between support beams, some tendrils swinging just above Bramblethorn's head. The damaged roof might leak in a rainstorm, but he would worry about that should the need arise.  
  
He had obtained some provisions in Bywater. Firewood was stacked in the corner of the room that had once served as a small parlor. He had procured a tinderbox and some candles, and some basic food items. A supply of fresh water had also been stored. All was in readiness, and only one thing remained - Frodo Baggins.  
  
Bramblethorn paused briefly and studied his reflection in the remnant of a broken mirror. He was neither tall nor short as hobbits went, but sturdily built, broad across the chest and shoulders. Thick, curly hair of a sandy brown fell not quite to his shoulders, framing a face that was both intelligent and intense. He prided himself on having a rather authoritative, commanding presence, the effect of which was usually that he got what he wanted.  
  
He smiled. There were indeed things he wanted, and he had plans to deal with them in short order.  
  
What a lonely little place this was, Bramblethorn thought. But he would not be alone! Absolutely not. He would have the company of another, whether the other was willing or not. Judging by his established track record with his proposed companion, he felt certain the issue of willingness was already decided and not in his favor.  
  
No matter. Even if he had failed before to gain Frodo's companionship on one level, he would certainly have it on another. Frodo was stubborn and headstrong. It might take a few days together before Bramblethorn could persuade him to sign the document recanting his testimony. It would be an interesting game, and Bramblethorn was poised to make the first move.  
  
~*~  
  
At last! Frodo finally felt that all the preparations for his cousins' visit were complete. It had been a long day of checking and re-checking, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything that would make the visit pleasant for everyone. Just seeing Merry and Pippin was always good, but it happened so seldom that he always took pains to do small extra things. Having plenty of mushrooms on hand for Pippin was a good idea, as they were his favorite. Merry was especially partial to Blueberry muffins in the morning, so plenty of blueberries were needed.  
  
It was late afternoon, and he had just finished with a last sweep through his home, making sure everything was straightened, dusted, pressed and polished. Everyone should have a visit from relatives every few months or so, he mused. It would certainly cause their homes to be neat and tidy!  
  
He stepped outside and headed for the garden. It was teatime and Sam was still working away, oblivious to the hour. The midsummer sun beat down on the ground with a withering force, and Sam's greatest labor was just keeping the plants green. He seemed to be doing well in that department. Despite the blazing heat, the flowers and vegetables were green and healthy.  
  
"Sam," Frodo called. "The tea is ready. Come in out of that sun for a while and rest."  
  
"I'll be right in, Mr. Frodo!" Sam answered, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He took the hoe back to the shed and checked to make sure he locked it behind him as he left. Not that there was really any need, since the theft of garden tools was unheard of in Hobbiton. It was just part of his daily ritual, something he always did without really thinking about the reason.  
  
Frodo was pouring the tea as Sam came into the kitchen. It was nice and cool inside Bag End - one of the advantages to living in a hole in the side of a hill. Sam sank gratefully into a chair and sighed in appreciation.  
  
"A funny thing about tea, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, taking a sip from his cup. "No matter the weather, hot or cold, it always sits just right with you."  
  
"I think I know what you mean, Sam." Frodo regarded his gardener fondly. "As hot as the weather is today, you would think a hot beverage would be the very last thing you would want, but it always tastes wonderful."  
  
Sam had a way with words, making simple but wise statements that always seemed to fit the occasion. Whatever needed saying, he could always find a plain, forthright way to say it. Frodo had grown to appreciate Sam all the more for his plainspoken approach to conversation. Few words were really needed between them much of the time - they could share a companionable silence just as gladly and easily as a long conversation.  
  
"Sam, you must be careful working in the sun all day. Your Gaffer would be furious with me if I allowed you to work yourself to collapsing," Frodo said earnestly. "The heat can be dangerous."  
  
"I know, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied. "I've been takin' some shade and water every so often as need be. Besides, I have a promise to keep." Sam's face seemed to flush slightly.  
  
"Sam?" Frodo regarded him quizzically. For once, he wasn't quite sure where Sam was leading him.  
  
Sam wasn't sure why he had mentioned that himself. Two years earlier he had arrived just in time to snatch Frodo from Bramblethorn's clutches, and he had sworn at that time to never be far from his master. If anything ever happened to Mr. Frodo - Sam let the thought go, not wanting to follow it to any sort of conclusion.  
  
"I promised not to leave you, Mr. Frodo," Sam explained, regarding his teacup as he spoke. "I won't go droppin' over in the garden, not with makin' you that promise."  
  
Frodo reached across the table and laid his thin, pale hand over Sam's larger tanned one. "I'm glad, Sam. I don't know what I would do without you."  
  
Sam smiled back, and the two of them shared a quiet teatime together. It was one of those times when few words were needed, and everything was right - just a lazy summer afternoon fading into a lovely evening, chores all done for the day and everything in place for the day to come.  
  
~*~  
  
The sun was going down, and the shadows began to deepen. From the concealing cover of the bushes, Bramblethorn watched Sam leave Bag End. Very good, he mused. The last two years must have been very peaceful. Frodo's watchdog had relaxed his vigilance as he'd hoped. It would be a simple matter of waiting until full darkness and gaining entry. When the lights had gone down in the windows of the parlor, he would wait a short while longer. If he could get inside quietly, he could keep to the shadows and choose his moment.  
  
He settled back to wait out the short time left before making his move. Two long years of exile in Bree, two years of simmering in anger and frustration. He was going to enjoy this.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	3. Into the Night

Welcome back!  
  
Endymion - Yes, poor Sam! As watchful as he is, he can't have his eyes open 24-7. Building up tension? Guilty!  
  
Aratlithiel - Plotbunnies are still kicking. There will be a third installment that is just Frodo and Sam. Three chapters, titled "Sound, Silence and Solace." The aftermath must be coped with! And cliffhangers in this fic? Definitely a few to come!  
  
Seregon - Thank you for calling the story so far "captivating". You made my day! Here's some more of that tension for ya!  
  
Misstook1420 - If chapter 2 provoked a shiver, read on. I've tried to make sure there are a few more to come!  
  
Mariole - Yes, you sense the rough road ahead. ~Looking at my toes sheepishly~ But Frodo is brave, resilient, defiant and clever. Please don't abandon me for getting him into this mess!  
  
Carol - ~Blush~ Thanks for the compliments on the story so far. You are not alone in your concern for our hero, which is something I'll admit I was counting on! With all of us pulling for him, he'll have to make it, won't he? Stay tuned. The plot thickens!  
  
Author's note - I wasn't going to post for another day or so, but you guys have been such great readers and reviewers, I'm letting this chapter out of its cage a little early for you! Keep coming back, and bring a friend!  
The Way of Vengeance Chapter 3 - Into the Night  
  
Frodo had seen Sam off to his home after supper. He was pleased when Sam accepted the invitation to stay. It was the least Frodo could do, with all the help Sam had given him in preparing for Merry and Pippin's visit. The last of the supper dishes were cleared away, washed and placed in the cupboard.  
  
Frodo stretched and fought a losing battle with a yawn. It would be a night for retiring early, at this rate. He still had some things to take care of in the study, so he snuffed the candles in the parlor and kitchen, and let the coals in the kitchen fireplace start to die down.  
  
He settled himself comfortably in the chair at his writing desk, and worked for a while at preparing another lesson for Sam. He had been teaching Sam to read and write Elvish, Quenya specifically. Sam was learning rapidly, and Frodo was thrilled with his progress. The arrangement had originated some time ago after Frodo had overheard bits of a conversation between Sam and Bilbo regarding elves. Sam was fascinated by anything and everything to do with the fair folk, and Frodo thought it would be nice for him to know a little of the Elvish languages. They had started with some basic Quenya, and would work on Sindarin later.  
  
Growing weary after a while, Frodo stretched again and rubbed at his temples. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes to rest them. Just a few minutes of rest, and he would return his attention to the page before him for a little while longer.  
  
~*~  
  
All was dark and still outside Bag End as Bramblethorn touched the doorknob carefully. If it happened to be locked, it might take some time to get it open. One could get through a locked door noisily and all at once, or slowly and quietly, with a little patience.  
  
He turned the knob slowly, noiselessly, meeting no resistance as the door opened obediently. The thing wasn't even locked! The Master of Bag End was feeling comfortable and secure indeed, if he didn't even bother to lock his door. Of course, what threat could possibly exist in Hobbiton now? Hadn't Frodo gotten Bramblethorn safely removed from the Shire, never to return? A nasty glimmer shone in Bramblethorn's eyes. Frodo's expression would be a priceless treasure to him.  
  
He slipped into the parlor silently and closed the door behind him. He could see light down the hallway where the study was located. He moved slowly down the hallway, making no sound at all. Approaching the door to the study with silent steps, he could see that it was only partially open. Perhaps he could get a quick glimpse inside without being seen. If he was detected, the element of surprise would be gone, but he would still be able to subdue the smaller hobbit without too much fuss.  
  
He looked carefully around the doorjamb and spied Frodo sitting at his writing desk, his back to the door. Frodo had leaned back in his chair and appeared to be resting. It was too much to hope that he was actually asleep, and too great a chance to take. He passed by the study and continued walking down the hall. A short distance away, he came across the master bedroom. Slipping into the shadows behind the open door, he waited.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo tidied up his desk and rose from his chair. Yawning for the third time in the last few minutes, he decided it was time to call it a day. Tomorrow would be busy, and he expected Merry and Pippin by luncheon.  
  
He retrieved the candle from his desk and started for his bedroom, feeling a little wearier with each step. Sleep beckoned invitingly, and he was not feeling inclined to argue. He opened the door, stepped in and set the candle on the dresser. He turned his back to the door and started to move in the direction of the bed to turn down the covers.  
  
Bramblethorn struck swiftly and decisively. Clamping a hand over Frodo's mouth to stifle the expected scream and grabbing the terrified hobbit's arm in a crushing grip, he stepped out of the shadows, pushing Frodo in front of him.  
  
"Good evening, Frodo. It's been a long time, and I've missed you," he said, his voice low and menacing.  
  
Frodo froze solid at the sound of that hated voice he had thought never to hear again. This was impossible! Bramblethorn had been banished from the Shire two years earlier! He was gone! He -  
  
"I'll bet you missed me too," the voice purred in Frodo's ear. A finger traced lightly from the tip of the ear down to the lobe.  
  
Frodo panicked. With his free arm, he reflexively jabbed his elbow backward into his attacker's ribs. Bramblethorn let out his breath in a huff and released his hold. Frodo bolted toward the door, instinctively fleeing through the only exit. He only made it part of the way there before a weight fell on his back, knocking him to the floor.  
  
Bramblethorn had recovered quickly and pounced on Frodo's back. He wrestled with the squirming hobbit, trying to gain a firm hold. Frodo had rolled onto his back during the scuffle and struck out in self-defense, landing a fairly solid punch on his attacker's jaw.  
  
It was a good effort, but not good enough. The next thing he felt was a blow to his temple that left him stunned. He fought to remain conscious, to keep fighting his assailant. Any chance of striking his attacker again evaporated as Bramblethorn rolled him over and pulled his arms behind his back. Sitting on Frodo's legs to hold him steady and pulling a small coil of rope out of his pack, Bramblethorn bound Frodo's hands securely.  
  
"Still as stubborn as ever, aren't you?" He said sarcastically. "Don't make me hurt you, Frodo. We have places to go, you and I, and I should hate to have to drag you."  
  
"What are you doing back in the Shire?!" Frodo cried out. "You were banished -"  
  
"Yes, thanks largely to you, my dear. But I missed you so!" Bramblethorn punctuated his last sentence by giving Frodo's arms a vicious yank. Frodo bit back a cry. "I've returned just to see you," Bramblethorn continued, dragging Frodo to his feet. "We're going for a walk in the moonlight. It's a fair distance, so I hope you're not too dizzy to make the trip."  
  
"Where are you taking me?" Frodo asked, trying to keep his voice steady.  
  
"No harm in telling you, since you would see for yourself eventually. We're going to Bywater. But no more questions now, Frodo dear. We'll get to the details of my visit soon enough, I promise."  
  
With that, Bramlethorn threw his pack over his shoulder and shoved his captive out the door and toward the parlor. As they reached the front door, he spoke again. "We will not be using the road, obviously. If I hear a sound from you intended to give our presence away to anyone, I will gag you. Now move!"  
  
With no way of leaving word to Sam, Merry or Pippin regarding his plight, Frodo felt a hopeless feeling wash over him. They would find him gone in the morning, with no sign of his whereabouts to lead them. They would know something was amiss, certainly, but the fact that he would be in Bywater would be completely unknown to them.  
  
Another shove and a few faltering steps, and Frodo was forced from his home and into the night. He was scared witless. The last time this beast had laid hands on him, it was with unspeakable intentions. Was his motive the same now, or was there more to it? Afraid to contemplate the answer to his own question, he stumbled forward into the darkness.  
~*~To be continued ~*~ 


	4. To Bywater

Greetings!  
  
Endymion - I agree with you! I'm trying to keep Frodo from doing an inordinate amount of whimpering in this fic. He may be small and cute, but he's got some fight in him. A good point that Frodo might have taken the risk of making more of a fuss. I considered that as an option. I just couldn't keep Bramblethorn from whacking him as a result, and I'm getting him whacked quite a lot. Letting my heart interfere with my writing - not good! Please continue to keep me in line! Others have had the same observations as you have!  
  
Aelfgifu - Yes, between your evil Merry and my psychotic Bramblethorn, Frodo has been having a tough time lately! Thank you for mentioning this story along with your own. I appreciate it! Your comments have been very constructive and thought provoking!  
  
Seregon - Thanks for being so consistent as a reader! Your points are well taken! You mention the same things that have nagged at me as I was writing. I pondered whether Frodo should be subdued by just a single hobbit, but I failed utterly at working out an accomplice for my villain. The best I could do was to make Frodo tired, unsuspecting and totally shocked, and give Bramblethorn the advantage of surprise, strength and viciousness. Shame on me! I hope Frodo will forgive me for placing him at a disadvantage.  
  
Mariole - Frodo's starting to recover from that blow to the head. He's thinking a little more clearly now. As for going for a cuddle, moonlight is so romantic. And Frodo looks nice in the moonlight. I'm bad.  
  
Aratlithiel - As to what Bramblethorn wants, he's ready to tell you!  
  
Misstook1420 - A chance to escape on the way to Bywater? Possible. Lots of things are possible!  
  
Author's note: great feedback has resulted in some revisions to this chapter as well as further parts of the story. How was it before? You'll never know, 'cause you're getting the improved version!  
Chapter 4 - To Bywater  
  
Frodo stumbled, nearly falling as the terrain beneath his feet became increasingly uneven. From behind him, two hands reached out and gripped his shoulders to steady him. "Can't have you turning an ankle and falling down, can we, love?" Bramblethorn said in his ear. "It's not that I'm not keen to have you in my arms, but I'd rather not have to carry you to Bywater."  
  
~Elbereth! What is he going to do to me?~ Frodo thought fearfully. As they had made progress through the darkened woods, Frodo's muddled thinking had begun to clear. He had been too stunned from the blow to his head to think clearly earlier, but the fresh air seemed to be helping him recover his presence of mind.  
  
Along with the clarity there came a heightened sense of danger. He found himself thinking about Bramblethorn's possible purpose for abducting him, and he wondered about the truth of the statement that they were going to Bywater. Bramblethorn had so far declined to tell him the reason for their journey to the nearby settlement.  
  
A horrible image coalesced in Frodo's mind. He would never reach Bywater. The inevitable was upon him, unavoidable and unspeakable. Bramblethorn would force him deep into the woods where there would be no one to hear his screams. His attacker would violate and break him, glorying in his pain and shame. ~Will he kill me when he's finished? Will he just leave me battered and bleeding, alone in these dark woods?~  
  
Frodo didn't think his already hammering heart could beat any faster until he heard Bramblethorn speak again.  
  
"How nice. As I said, a walk in the moonlight." No longer walking directly behind Frodo, Bramblethorn moved to his prisoner's side. "Lovely, isn't it?" As he spoke, he pulled Frodo to a stop, grabbed him by the shoulders again, and backed him toward a tree. "Doesn't it just put you in the mood?" He whispered with a horrifying grin on his face.  
  
Frodo fought to keep his fear and revulsion from showing in his expression, and failed utterly. "No!" He blurted. It was the best reply he could come up with and it came out in a strangled squeak.  
  
"Frodo, I haven't seen your lovely face in two years," Bramblethorn said in that soft yet menacing tone. "Surely you know you're irresistible in the moonlight," he continued, pressing close to Frodo.  
  
His back to the tree, Frodo cringed as his terror threatened to overwhelm him. "Please, I'm begging you!" he stammered. "Don't - don't force me to - " He couldn't finish the sentence.  
  
"Oh, Frodo," Bramblethorn said slowly, feigning a slightly sad tone. "Not here. Not yet, my love, impatient as I am to have you for myself." He touched Frodo's cheek in a travesty of a gentle caress. "I fear the experience would be difficult for you. I can't risk damaging you at this stage of the game."  
  
Frodo's already pale face drained of color completely at Bramblethorn's words. "What game?" he heard himself asking, the volume of his voice rising along with his panic. "What are you talking about?!"  
  
Bramblethorn clamped a hand over Frodo's mouth to silence him. "No noise, now beloved." The menace had crept back into his voice as he regarded his captive. He pulled Frodo away from the tree and resumed herding him along toward their destination.  
  
"I have plans for you, Frodo," Bramblethorn continued, punctuating the sentence with a shove. "We will discuss them soon. In the meantime, I'm contenting myself with the prospect of some time alone together."  
  
It was too much for Frodo. "NO! Someone help me, please!" he cried out into the darkness. He sprang forward, every nerve in his body singing out to him to flee. Bramblethorn uttered a curse and followed on his heels. Frodo crashed through the underbrush gracelessly and off-balance from being bound, running without any thought to direction.  
  
Bramblethorn caught up with him after a few moments. He grabbed Frodo's arms and whirled him around into another tree, face first. Frodo's chest hit the tree hard and the side of his face scraped against the bark painfully.  
  
"No! Please let me go," he almost sobbed. The horrifying images came to him again as Bramblethorn roughly pulled him away from the tree.  
  
"I can't bear to be parted from you, Frodo." Bramblethorn answered his plea. "You wound me so deeply, running from me this way." He had pulled a piece of dark cloth from his pack. "I know how to keep you by my side." He tied the cloth over Frodo's eyes, and said with satisfaction, "If you can't see where you're going, you cannot run. At least, it would be quite ill advised of you to try."  
  
He pulled Frodo away from the tree and the march began again. Frodo found himself in the unenviable position of needing the touch of the very hands he loathed and feared to guide him and keep him from falling. He had no idea where he was or how long he would be forced to stumble, terrified, through the darkness to an unknown location and an uncertain fate.  
  
~*~  
  
They had circled around the town of Bywater itself, reaching the farthest edge of the settlement. A row of empty, unused smials occupied part of a hillside covered with grass, trees and bushes. They looked as if they had been abandoned long ago, and they were quite overgrown. The door where they stood now was partially obscured by the undergrowth, but opened under the pressure applied to it.  
  
Bramblethorn pulled the blindfold from Frodo's eyes and shoved him forward into a dank, musty room, sparsely furnished and dusty from long disuse. More of his surroundings came into view as his captor lit a candle and the faint light penetrated deeper into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the new light level, Frodo could make out the fireplace, and he could see several round windows that were completely boarded up. It was plain that nobody had been there in a long while.  
  
"Not much, I'll admit, but it's cozy, don't you agree?" Bramblethorn said with maddening mock-politeness. He guided Frodo to a dirty, threadbare sofa. "Make yourself at home, Frodo dear."  
  
Frodo collapsed wearily onto the sofa. Although the distance from Hobbiton to Bywater was not especially great on a large scale, and could be traversed in one evening, the journey had left him drained. Bramblethorn's advances had stretched his nerves taut, and the blindfold had made him feel more helpless than he ever had before in his life. He was also beginning to feel frustrated and angry.  
  
"Why have you brought me here? What do you want, Bramblethorn?" Frodo pressed. He had thought he had known the answer, but the journey through the woods had caused him to wonder. If forcing himself upon Frodo was Bramblethorn's sole motive for all of this, why march him all the way to Bywater? It didn't add up. What elaborate, depraved plan could he possibly be hatching?  
  
"You are here because I need you to do something for me, Frodo." Bramblethorn pulled a wooden chair close to the sofa and seated himself across from his captive. "You see, I've been living in Bree these past two years. I don't like it there, and I want to return to the Shire."  
  
"And how am I able to help you do that?" Frodo said incredulously. "I'm not the Mayor. I cannot lift your banishment, nor would I if it were in my power!" His voice was uncharacteristically hard as he made that statement. The thought of Bramblethorn back in the Shire was abhorrent to him.  
  
Bramblethorn leaned back casually in his chair and regarded Frodo evenly. "You were responsible for having me expelled from the Shire. You and that gardener of yours." He stood and began pacing to and fro as he spoke. "True, rumors had been flying regarding me and certain behavior the good folk of Hobbiton considered 'unnatural'. But it was your account of our interlude in the forest and your gardener's statement confirming it that swayed the Mayor and his council."  
  
He turned back to Frodo, his voice suddenly taking on a harsh, menacing tone. "You will help me by recanting your testimony, Frodo." He leaned down and looked directly into Frodo's eyes. "You will sign a document stating that your accusation against me was falsely made."  
  
Frodo could not believe what he was hearing. His accusation had been anything but false! Bramblethorn had sought him out with no other intent but to harm and humiliate him, to defile and break him. It was only the swift and sure actions of Sam that had saved him from this horror.  
  
Two years had passed since the incident, but Frodo found that he still felt the urge to look over his shoulder whenever he was alone outside of his home. He still woke in the night on some occasions, trembling and striking out at thin air as the dreams lingered. In the last few months the dreams had diminished in number and his agitated state had calmed somewhat. Now, here Bramblethorn was again, staring down at him and demanding that he do this!  
  
"I will do nothing of the kind!" Frodo cried, his defiance rising in spite of his fear.  
  
Bramblethorn straightened and sighed. "I thought you would say as much." He turned away for a brief moment, then swung back around and backhanded his stubborn prisoner. Frodo gasped and fought back tears at the pain.  
  
Bramblethorn grabbed Frodo by the front of his shirt and shook him. "I intend to persuade you to change your mind, Master Baggins. I can be very persuasive when I wish to be." He hauled Frodo up from the sofa and dragged him, twisting and squirming, to the far corner of the room near the hearth.  
  
Frodo kicked with all his might as Bramblethorn wrestled him to the ground. Anger infused him with new strength. If this were to be his fate, he would try to face it bravely, fighting with all he had left. At a disadvantage without the use of his hands, he relied upon other resources. His feet found their mark upon his tormentor, forcefully enough to leave bruises behind. It also enraged Bramblethorn considerably.  
  
"You have kicked me before, Frodo," Bramblethorn growled. "Have you forgotten the result?" He gripped Frodo's throat and squeezed. "Allow me to remind you!" With that, he struck Frodo with considerable force.  
  
"There's your warning. You won't get another one!" Bramblethorn released his hold on Frodo's throat, but still gripped him tightly by one arm as he rummaged in his pack for something.  
  
Frodo gasped as air flooded his lungs again. His fury helped him to recover himself somewhat and he planted a heel in Bramblethorn's side. "How dare you!" Frodo shouted back at him. "You're utterly mad! Release me!"  
  
The fear that had paralyzed him at Bag End seemed, for the moment, to evaporate in the face of Frodo's anger and indignation. Bramblethorn had no right to make demands of him and threaten him like this!  
  
Bramblethorn had recovered from the impact of Frodo's last strike against him. "If you want to do this the hard way, I don't mind!" Bramblethorn shouted as he delivered a hard slap to Frodo's face. He repeated the action until Frodo stopped kicking.  
  
"I'm disappointed in you, Frodo," he said mockingly. "We were getting along so well up until now. Tell me, were you too frightened earlier this evening to behave badly?" Frodo did not respond. "Have you overcome your fear of me, by some chance?"  
  
He drew another coil of rope from his pack and began to bind Frodo's ankles while his captive was semi-conscious. "You shall fear me again, Frodo Baggins. That I promise you!"  
  
Frodo fought to clear the fog from his mind. As his eyes began to focus again, he found himself staring into Bramblethorn's face. What he saw there made his enemy's words begin to ring true. The nasty leer Frodo remembered and saw in his dreams was back again, boring into him, chilling his soul. Bramblethorn placed a bruising kiss on his lips as Frodo writhed in revulsion.  
  
"You'll regret your actions, Bramblethorn," Frodo said, trying to catch his breath. "You're only adding to your troubles. Word of this will get out and you'll never be allowed within the borders of the Shire again!"  
  
"When I need your advice, Baggins, I'll ask for it," Bramblethorn said with a nasty smile. "Meanwhile, you'll keep it to yourself." He shoved a cloth into Frodo's mouth and tied it behind his head, gagging him. Bramblethorn turned and strode from the room, leaving Frodo alone with his thoughts.  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. This was unbelievable. Bramblethorn had been correct in stating that Frodo had been both stunned and frightened when he was abducted. Frodo silently cursed himself for not having his wits about him to a greater degree. Would Bramblethorn have succeeded if Frodo had fought harder? He had wanted to cry out for help, but his voice hadn't cooperated. Terror had robbed him of his sensibilities when he had been in the greatest need of them.  
  
No use worrying about that now, he reminded himself bitterly. Hindsight wouldn't reveal his future. His panicked flight from his captor in the woods had brought him only further humiliation, and his cry for help had gone unheard. So what was he to do now?  
  
He would have to keep himself focused and look for any mistakes Bramblethorn might make that would allow him an opportunity for escape.  
  
His thoughts wandered to Sam, his beloved friend above all friends, for whom he cared so deeply. Why was it so hard for him to express to Sam how much he meant to him? He'd never really told Sam how much he truly cared for him and needed him. The words just didn't exist, or were somehow always just beyond his reach.  
  
And now Sam was going to find him missing. Frodo's heart stung bitterly at the thought of the anguish Sam would surely feel over this. He will blame himself, Frodo thought morosely.  
  
Darker thoughts were beginning to creep in around the edges of the anger that had been holding them at bay. Would he even see Sam again? Frodo made a promise to himself. If he should make it out of this in one piece, he would find a way to tell Sam how he felt. He would tell him how important it was to have his friendship and cheerful, loyal presence.  
  
Weariness and his aching head began to overcome him, and Frodo sank into an uneasy sleep in the corner of the shabby parlor.  
  
~*~To be continued ~*~ 


	5. Arrivals and Discoveries

To all -  
  
Aelfgifu - Yes, the woods are creepy at night. Creepy woods, nasty villain, scared Frodo! Thanks for the idea about the blindfold. Everyone seems to like it - except for Frodo, of course!  
  
Endymion - Is Frodo's only chance playing for time and relying on the wits of his friends? Perhaps. A little good luck wouldn't hurt him either!  
  
TTTurtle - Thanks for joining us! Yes, Frodo's in a spot, all right! As for helping Sam find him, let's just say a needle in a haystack can be trouble enough to find when you know which haystack it's in! Updates will happen every couple of days or so, so stick around!  
  
Camellia Gamgee Took - You want more? You got it! A smaller chapter this time, but the next will be longer, I promise!  
  
Aratlithiel - Yes, I let Frodo depend upon the hands of his dangerous enemy to guide him to Bywater safely. Safely???? Hmmm.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - That's the Baggins spirit, all right. Frodo might be scared, but he's still fighting. Meanwhile, something's rotten in Denmark. I mean Hobbiton!  
  
Seregon - Glad you're enjoying the psychological aspect of the story. I designed Bramblethorn to be the type who enjoys a contest of wills. I'd say he's got one! And you're not the only one who has commented on Frodo's defiance in this fic. There's a cheering section forming with big "Go Frodo!" signs.  
The Way of Vengeance Chapter 5 - Arrivals and Discoveries  
Merry and Pippin rode together, each astride a sturdy Shire pony. They were nearly to Hobbiton and Bag End, and just in time for elevenses. Frodo wasn't expecting them until luncheon, but he never minded when they arrived a little early.  
  
Pippin looked over at Merry with an expression that said something had just occurred to him. "Merry, why do you suppose cousin Frodo has never gotten himself a pony?" Pippin's seemingly endless supply of curiosity was bubbling to the surface again as he prompted the hobbit who rode beside him.  
  
"Well, Pip," Merry began, as he considered the question. "I would suppose that he likes to walk, just like Bilbo always did." This seemed plausible, since Bilbo had been known for taking long walks through the Shire, some of which took him away from Bag End for several days. He would often take Frodo with him on those excursions, and the younger Baggins seemed to enjoy the trips as much as his uncle.  
  
"Maybe so," Pippin conceded. "But it's a very long walk between Bag End and Buckland, Merry."  
  
"And that's why I have a pony," Merry said, smiling. Not that he minded a good walk either, but it was nice to arrive at his cousin's home without being too weary from the journey to enjoy himself.  
  
The round green door of Bag End came into view, and the rest of Bagshot Row besides. All was green and peaceful this lazy summer morning, with a light breeze carrying the scent of roses and fresh grass trimmings. Pippin and Merry dismounted and met Sam as he came walking up from the garden.  
  
"Hello, Sam!" Pippin's voice lilted across the garden as Sam walked to the front gate.  
  
"Hullo, Mr. Pippin, Mr. Merry." Sam nodded and smiled. "Pleasant journey?"  
  
"None better, Sam," Merry answered, grinning. He had always liked Sam, finding him to be a refreshing change from some of the stuffy hobbits at Brandy Hall. With Sam, you knew where you stood, he mused. No foolish airs, no contrivance. No wonder Frodo was so fond of him.  
  
"I'll take your ponies around back and get them properly stabled," Sam said as he took the reins. The ponies followed him obediently, one of them nosing at Sam's hand slightly in hopes of finding a concealed sugar cube or carrot.  
  
Merry rapped smartly on the door while Pippin rang the bell for good measure. It was their established method of letting Frodo know that they had both arrived. In the past, Frodo had teased them about arriving amidst a clatter fit to rouse all of the Westfarthing. A few moments went by without Frodo appearing at the door to greet them.  
  
Merry frowned slightly and pulled on the bell again while Pippin gave him an odd look. "You don't suppose Frodo is ill, do you Merry? He's usually awake in time for elevenses, even if he does sometimes sleep through first and second breakfast."  
  
"I don't know, Pip," Merry responded. "I certainly hope he isn't."  
  
Sam had finished with the ponies and returned to the front steps to find Merry and Pippin still waiting with perplexed looks on their faces. "Is something wrong?" he asked cautiously.  
  
"We've rung the bell twice and Frodo hasn't answered," Merry replied, looking perplexed. "Is he still asleep by any chance?"  
  
It was Sam's turn to frown. "I wouldn't think so, Mr. Merry. It just ain't Mr. Frodo's way to be abed quite so late in the day, not with company comin'." Come to think of it, Sam realized he hadn't seen Frodo yet that morning either. Usually Frodo would call to him and wave good morning from the window. Sam tried the doorknob, and the door swung open easily. They all glanced at each other, and Merry took a hesitant step forward. The parlor was neat and tidy, with no visible sign of anything amiss.  
  
"Frodo?" He called. "It's Merry! Pip and I have arrived, cousin!" Only silence answered him.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" Sam called apprehensively as he walked further down the hallway to check in the study. Perhaps Frodo was absorbed in a book or manuscript and just wasn't paying attention. The study was empty. This was extremely odd! Mr. Frodo knew Merry and Pippin were to arrive that day, and he was prepared for them. Why would he not be ready at hand when his cousins rang the bell?  
  
Sam walked toward the bedroom with a growing knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. Was his master not feeling well? What if he were ill and had fallen, and Sam had been whistling away blithely in the garden the entire time? ~Ninnyhammer!~ Sam thought to himself. He should have checked on Mr. Frodo himself that morning, just for good measure.  
  
He stepped into the bedroom, half expecting to see Frodo nestled against the pillows, a feverish blush blooming in his cheeks. His eyes widened in shock as he noted that the bed appeared to have not been slept in. Something on the dresser caught his eye. A candle in a small silver candleholder had been allowed to burn all the way down to a mere puddle of melted wax.  
  
Merry and Pippin joined Sam in the doorway. Looks of confusion and concern passed from one hobbit to the next for a moment. Nobody spoke. Feeling a sense of dread he couldn't easily explain, Sam suddenly bolted from the room and through the front door, into the bright morning sunshine.  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" He called out, his voice edged with a combination of fear and worry. The only thing he heard in answer were the birds in the trees and the bees buzzing in the flowers by the gate. There had to be an explanation for Frodo's absence, but for the life of him, Sam couldn't think of what it might be.  
  
"Sam?" Merry had come to stand by his side and Pippin was right behind. Merry looked at his cousin's gardener and waited for him to answer.  
  
"I don't know what's goin' on, Mr. Merry," he said, looking up the road with a strange expression on his face. "But I don't like it, and that's a fact." He continued to gaze up the road, a memory playing itself over and over again in his mind.  
  
His thoughts returned to another sunny day when he couldn't find Frodo. At that time, Sam had good reason for his worry, what with that beast Bramblethorn about, and Mr. Frodo's nervous behavior. All that was over now, and life at Bag End had long since returned to normal.  
  
When he broke away from his reverie, Sam realized it was the same hollow feeling he felt now, like something had knocked the wind out of him. He could feel his heart pounding and his hands were sweating. He had involuntarily clenched them into fists, his knuckles whitening.  
  
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Sam could feel it in his bones, the way the old-timers claimed to feel an approaching rainstorm. He could sense it in the sudden emptiness around him, the way the sun on the back of his neck suddenly didn't feel warm anymore and every sound around him was magnified as if to fill a silence that should not exist.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam, Merry and Pippin had decided to spread out and start searching Hobbiton and the surrounding area. They started with the places Frodo was known to frequent, which were mainly parts of the countryside, rather than the town itself. Frodo had a quiet, somewhat solitary way about him, and was prone to wandering in the countryside or slipping away somewhere quiet with a good book.  
  
It was possible that Frodo had taken a morning walk and met with some accident along his route. If so, perhaps they would find him by walking and calling for him.  
  
Sam started with the place that came to mind immediately, the secluded wood by the little stream near Bag End. It was the place where he had found Frodo that day two years before, and just in time by the look of things.  
  
As he walked down the dusty road, Sam prayed that he was not too late this time. Two years ago, he had noticed Frodo's absence in a timely manner, and had acted immediately. This time he feared a great deal more time had passed. The last he had seen of Frodo was at supper the previous evening.  
  
Sam considered all the pieces of the puzzle so far. There was the candle in the bedroom, burned down to nothing, and the neat, unrumpled state of the bedclothes. If there was a candle burning on the dresser, that meant Frodo had at least been in the bedroom, even if he hadn't gone to sleep. But Frodo simply wasn't careless enough to leave a candle burning unattended in a room. Sam shook his head. It all meant something, he was certain, but too many pieces were still missing from the puzzle.  
  
And Frodo was missing as well, Sam thought as he searched along the wooded path. All Sam could think of was that he had failed. He had sworn to watch over his master and friend, but had obviously been caught napping. Kicking himself wouldn't cause Frodo to miraculously appear before him safe and whole, he admonished himself. Best to keep his mind focused upon the task at hand.  
  
Calling Frodo's name as he went, Sam listened closely for an answer or any sound that might indicate someone in distress, but all that met his ears were the calls of birds and the sound of a light breeze rustling the leaves overhead.  
  
The wood was empty. This time, there was no leather-bound book lying in fallen leaves, no voices rising from the thickets to lead him. There was nothing but trees and rocks, streams and sunlight. Only the things that belonged there, plus one fear driven hobbit searching desperately for someone he loved.  
  
And what he felt for Frodo was most certainly love. Sam could find no other word to express it. Frodo's absence left him bereft of light, without enough air to breathe. He felt as if a part of him had suddenly disappeared. Was that what it meant to love someone? To be unable see, or think, or breathe without them nearby?  
  
~Mr. Frodo, I swear if I find you I will tell you,~ Sam thought. ~I will tell you that you're my sun and stars and that there is no light without you.~  
  
Sam walked on through the woods, his desperate search turning up nothing. He wondered how Merry and Pippin were faring.  
  
~*~  
  
"Frodo!" Merry called as he walked along a lonely road between two small farms. He got no answer, but kept walking and calling anyway. Surely Frodo must be somewhere nearby! This road led to, among other places, a hillside that afforded a wonderful view of much of the surrounding area. It was a favorite haunt of Frodo's.  
  
Merry was hoping Frodo had gone for a walk and paused to rest upon the hill. It would be easy for one to be lulled into sleep by the warm sunshine on such a morning, and his cousin might very well have lain down in the grass for a moment and fallen asleep instead.  
  
Reaching the top of the hill, Merry surveyed the countryside around him. Frodo was nowhere to be seen. The day was passing swiftly, Merry thought apprehensively. In a little while, he would have to head back to Bag End to see if Sam or Pippin had brought any news. If their search of the countryside failed to turn up any clues, they would start checking in town. If any of the folk there had seen Frodo in the last 24 hours, they might at least have some place to begin. Right now, he felt like he was searching for a single pebble among all the pebbles at the bottom of the Brandywine.  
  
~*~  
  
Pippin followed the stream as it wandered along its narrow rocky course, wending its way through the trees. His objective was a pond a short distance away. He, Sam and Merry had tried to think of all of the peaceful places Frodo liked most, and the pond was a good bet. He and Frodo had spent some hot summer afternoons swimming in the cool, shallow waters when Pippin had been a younger lad.  
  
Upon reaching the little pond, Pippin called again for Frodo and listened. No answer. So far, there was no sign of his cousin. Pippin wasn't given to worrying a great deal about things, but he was beginning to feel worried about Frodo. His cousin was so responsible! Never before had he failed to be present to greet them on a visit, and he was never unduly late in arriving at the Great Smials or Brandy Hall when it was his turn to journey forth.  
  
Pippin sighed, feeling defeated. He hoped the others had found more than he had. A thought came to him and his expression brightened again. Maybe Frodo was already back at Bag End waiting for them with some interesting tale to tell of the day's events, and wondering where they had been. Holding to that hope, he started back toward Bagshot Row.  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	6. Meanwhile

Welcome!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Wow! Thanks for the compliments on my writing. Glad you enjoyed the different perspectives of the characters as they pondered Frodo's whereabouts. They may have gone home empty - handed for the moment, but they're not giving up.  
  
Aelfgifu - Glad you enjoyed Merry's thoughts on Sam. I'd say Merry more than approves of Frodo's friendship with him. As for writing evil hobbit dialogue, yes. It's surprisingly fun. I'm beginning to think I need therapy after listening to the voice of Bramblethorn in my head!  
  
Aratlithiel - How are Sam, Merry and Pippin going to find Frodo? Time will tell. Meanwhile, if Frodo - in - trouble fics are your thing, you're in the right place. He's definitely in some trouble, I'd say. Read on and see if you're in agreement!  
  
Endymion - A good point about Sam not discovering Frodo's absence until late morning. I thought about that, but decided for this story to have the three of them make the discovery at the same time for effect. Merry and Pippin are aware of the events two years earlier, but aren't drawing the same possible conclusions as Sam since they had less involvement.  
  
TTTurtle - If you've been wondering what was going on with Frodo while the others are trying to find him, here's the answer. Meanwhile the search for Frodo continues.  
  
Misstook1420 - Yes, poor Frodo! He may never let me write about him again after this!  
  
To all of you, a huge thanks for getting on board and making this story a success. Whether it's good or bad, it would be nothing without you guys taking the time to check it out.  
The Way of Vengeance Chapter 6 - Meanwhile  
"Wake up, Frodo, love. It's morning." That voice again. Frodo groaned and stirred slightly. Morning? How could one tell in this hole with the windows boarded up? He blinked several times as his vision cleared slightly. He could see small shafts of light pushing their way in through thin spaces between the boards over the windows, but no other indication that the sun had risen.  
  
Bramblethorn reached behind Frodo's head and removed the gag from his mouth. "The dawn has come, Frodo. Tell me, did you sleep well?" He leaned over Frodo's bound form and continued, "Pleasant dreams I hope?"  
  
Frodo remained silent. His dreams were none of Bramblethorn's business. He closed his eyes again.  
  
Bramblethorn grabbed him and propped him up in a sitting position. "No more dreaming for now, my love. We must greet the day." He held a teacup to Frodo's lips. Frodo looked at it, but did not move to take a sip.  
  
"Come now, Frodo. It's tea, nothing more. Do you think I'm trying to poison you?" Bramblethorn asked. "I'm hurt, my dearest. I thought we'd have tea together and chat." Bramblethorn raised the cup again, and Frodo reluctantly took a couple of swallows. It wouldn't be wise to add dehydration to his problems, and he decided it was safe enough. Bramblethorn would have nothing to gain by killing him now, with that document as yet unsigned.  
  
"Have you considered my proposition, Frodo?" Bramblethorn asked, as if he had offered to sell Frodo a prized Shire pony and was merely waiting to close the deal.  
  
"What you propose," Frodo said slowly but clearly, "is preposterous. To allow you back in the Shire would be no better than allowing wolves among the farmers' flocks!"  
  
Bramblethorn laughed at the analogy. "In your opinion, at least," he said, "but really, Frodo. What crime have I committed, other than to fall victim to your charms?" He touched Frodo's face, lightly tracing over his cheekbone. Scratches remained there from when he had thrown Frodo against the tree on their trek from Hobbiton. Frodo pulled away sharply.  
  
Trying to replace fear with resolve, Frodo looked at Bramblethorn as steadily as he could manage. "Please spare me your claims of innocence. I've heard the tales -" he began, but Bramblethorn cut him off.  
  
"You have? I've heard many tales as well. You, as a Baggins, should be accustomed to tales. After all, a great many are told in Hobbiton regarding your, shall we say, 'interesting' family." Bramblethorn raised his own teacup and his eyebrows as he spoke.  
  
Frodo had heard it all before. It was no news to him that the name of Baggins was thought to go hand in hand with rather odd behavior, or at least behavior that was deemed odd by his fellow hobbits. Keeping company with elves and dwarves was unusual, as was journeying far from the Shire for a long period of time. Bilbo had done all those things, and come back to the Shire again with stories of magnificent adventures. Others had called Bilbo mad or cracked, or a number of other descriptive terms. Frodo had never allowed it to bother him, since he admired Bilbo for standing out.  
  
"Many things have been said, both flattering and otherwise," Frodo stated quietly. "In any case, the name of Baggins has been connected with merely odd behavior, not behavior of a cruel or depraved sort."  
  
"Depraved? Cruel? You think these things of me." He considered. "And perhaps I have given you good reason. Perhaps I will continue to do so." He smiled and Frodo felt as though the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees. "That is really up to you, Frodo. We must reach an understanding of the situation."  
  
"I understand the situation," Frodo answered, knowing he was on dangerous ground but wholly unwilling to tread the other path that was offered. "I understand that you do not feel there is anything wrong with harming someone else as long as it suits your need."  
  
"Have I truly harmed you, Frodo?" Bramblethorn was looking at his prisoner searchingly. "No, Frodo Baggins, I have not harmed you." He leaned closer until he was staring directly into Frodo's deep blue eyes. "Not yet." Those words came out in a low hiss that set Frodo's nerves on end.  
  
Bramblethorn rose and paced for a moment. "So I take it," he said slowly, "you have not changed your mind and decided to cooperate?"  
  
Frodo steeled himself. "I have not changed my mind in the slightest."  
  
Bramblethorn looked at him sharply and strode back across the room to kneel at Frodo's side. Frodo expected another stinging slap to the face for his insolence. He did not expect the almost gentle caress behind his ear, trailing down across his neck to the base of his throat. Bramblethorn gripped the front of Frodo's shirt and tore it, sending several buttons flying across the room.  
  
Frodo could not hold back an inarticulate cry of rage, frustration and loathing. He twisted futilely against the bonds that restrained him, trying to break away from the hand that was now tracing small circles upon his exposed chest.  
  
"I haven't forgotten you yet, Frodo. I still want you. I haven't changed my mind about that."  
  
Bramblethorn stuffed the gag back in Frodo's mouth and left him trembling in the corner of the room.  
  
~*~  
  
Bramblethorn gazed down at Frodo pensively. The morning had worn away into afternoon, and his prisoner had passed the time mostly in slumber. Not much else for him to do, really, Bramblethorn reflected.  
  
As if feeling his captor's stare as a physical force, Frodo suddenly woke. He looked up at Bramblethorn and frowned.  
  
Such spirit! Bramblethorn chuckled as he knelt down, eye to eye with Frodo. "Dreaming again, love?" He pulled the gag off. "I have dreams too, Frodo dear. Sometimes you're in them, you know."  
  
"Not by any choice of my own," Frodo answered him, the frown deepening. "What do you think you have to gain by all of this, Bramblethorn?" Frodo asked, meeting his enemy's gaze steadily. "What could possibly make you think that I will lend my signature to the bold - faced lie you've concocted?"  
  
"Such a scornful tone, Frodo! Really, I don't know whether to be offended or merely amused," Bramblethorn said , standing upright again. Pulling his pipe from a pocket and lighting it casually, he continued, "I think I'll opt for amused, given your present dignified position."  
  
Frodo's eyes remained fixed on Bramblethorn's despite the latter's taunting words. "Amused, offended, I care not," Frodo said in a biting tone. "And as to dignity - "  
  
"I should have left that rag in your mouth," Bramblethorn cut him off. "To answer your question as to your eventual cooperation, let me just say this." He knelt down again. "Have you ever been hungry, Frodo? I mean really hungry, not just aware that you've missed luncheon?" He gestured with the pipe, pointing the stem in Frodo's direction as he spoke. "Have you been so thirsty as to make that musical voice of yours naught but a rasp in your throat?"  
  
So that was his game, Frodo thought. Not very inventive, but predictably sadistic. He might have expected as much.  
  
Bramblethorn stood and paced as he spoke. "In case you've failed to notice, Frodo, you have few options to speak of." He stopped pacing and pointed the pipe stem at Frodo again. "Besides which, I will not accept no for an answer."  
  
"You never have, as I recall," Frodo said sharply. "Had you the decency to do so two years ago, you would not be in exile!"  
  
"Such harsh words from your sweet lips, my love," Bramblethorn said sarcastically. "I can think of a variety of ways to silence those lips for a while," he continued, his gaze narrowing. "I can think of ways to achieve the opposite, too. Would you care to test those methods?"  
  
Frodo shot a look of pure loathing at Bramblethorn. "You are a beast," he said flatly.  
  
Bramblethorn knelt beside his prisoner again, and fixed him with an icy glare. "You have no idea," he said coldly, allowing a slow smile to spread across his face.  
  
Frodo searched for some stinging reply, some sharp riposte to bring to bear against the creature leering at him, but found none. Instead he fell silent as Bramblethorn declared the conversation at an end by tying the gag back in place.  
  
~*~  
  
Night had fallen, dark and still. Bramblethorn had fallen asleep on the sofa across the room, and was snoring slightly. Frodo was awake, leaning back against the hearthstones and staring into the gloom. He sighed and shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, if any such thing existed. His hand scraped against one of the stones and he winced at the stinging sensation where the edge had cut him slightly.  
  
He blinked. The edge of one of the stones had cut him! It was sharp, and within his reach! Cautiously he felt along the stones behind him, letting his fingers probe lightly over them. There! A slight edge where one of the stones had broken and the mortar had fallen away around it.  
  
Frodo shifted again, trying to position himself so that he could rub the rope binding his hands against the broken stone. It might take a while to sever his bonds that way, but it seemed the best option he had. He was careful to make as little sound as possible as he worked.  
  
Bramblethorn stopped snoring and shifted on the sofa. Frodo froze instantly, beads of sweat standing out on his brow. It seemed an eternity that he sat motionless, waiting for the worst, but Bramblethorn began to snore again after a few minutes. Frodo didn't realize he had been holding his breath until he felt himself exhale rather sharply.  
  
He continued to rub the ropes around his hands against the edge of the hearthstone. Giving a slight tug against them, he was sure he felt them beginning to loosen. A few more minutes were all he would need.  
  
Scrape, scrape, scrape. The sound was very soft, but it sounded like thunder to Frodo's heightened sense of hearing. He felt the rope slacken and give way all at once. He ripped the gag off and dropped it on the floor. Almost unable to believe his hands were finally free, he rubbed his palms together and flexed his fingers to restore circulation to them. Now he had to get to work on the rope at his ankles.  
  
The knots were tight, but not unmanageable. Frodo's heart pounded as his nimble fingers worked away in silence. He frowned in consternation as he tried to loosen the knots. That was it, he thought to himself. The nail biting habit had to go. He kept working at it. A pull here, a tug there, and finally, success! He got to his feet slowly, grimacing at the needle- like prickling sensation coursing up his legs.  
  
Slowly and silently, he took a few steps forward, working his way toward the door and freedom. He had not seen Bramblethorn lock it, and suspected the lock was broken anyway. His heart was in his throat as he stepped carefully past the sofa and his sleeping captor. Clearing that obstacle, he reached out and carefully pulled on the doorknob.  
  
Rust and dirt had accumulated in the hinges. Frodo was horrified at the squeak the hinge produced, a cruel, strident squeal of betrayal. He turned and threw a panicky look at the sofa and Bramblethorn. To his horror, Bramblethorn's eyes were open, and a sneer was creeping across his face.  
  
Wasting no more time, Frodo pulled the door open and bolted through it, running as fast as he could toward the road and the forest beyond. Better to risk getting lost in the woods at night than to remain in Bramblethorn's clutches, he decided.  
  
"Blast you, Baggins!" Bramblethorn was on his feet, shouting threats and following at a rapid pace. "You will suffer for this, I assure you!"  
  
Frodo risked a glance behind him. Bramblethorn was quicker on his feet than Frodo had thought by the look of him. He had a murderous gleam in his eye and was gaining on his escaped charge by the moment.  
  
Crossing the road, Frodo scrambled for the dense trees and underbrush in the surrounding woods. This was unfamiliar territory to him, and he had no idea what to expect as he dove into the bushes. He wasn't even sure in which direction the town of Bywater lay, since he had been blindfolded upon his arrival.  
  
He could still hear Bramblethorn's shouting behind him, and another quick glance backward revealed his angry captor racing across the road in his direction. ~No time!~ Frodo thought. ~If only that door hinge hadn't squeaked!~  
  
Frodo turned his gaze back to the terrain before him, but saw the fallen tree limb in the same instant that his foot struck it - too late. A pained cry escaped him as he tumbled forward into the undergrowth, rolling down a slight incline. He tried to regain his feet, but a stab of pain in his left ankle prevented him from standing on it. He didn't think it was broken, but it seemed certain he had sprained it badly.  
  
He heard the bushes rustling and looked around him in a panic. He had to hide immediately, but where? He began to crawl toward a clump of bushes nearby. If he could hide and remain quiet, there was a slight chance that Bramblethorn would overlook him in the darkness of the woods.  
  
Frodo tucked himself into the clump of greenery as completely as he could, hardly daring to breathe, and watched the approach of his enemy. Bramblethorn had paused and was looking around him, trying to discern the direction Frodo had taken. He began to walk away from the bushes.  
  
~Please, keep going!~ Frodo thought at him. ~Please don't turn around!~  
  
Bramblethorn stopped. He was looking at the ground, thoughtfully. His eyes traveled the length of a mark in the dirt, a small furrow in the dust that led -  
  
With a lunge not unlike that of a wild beast on the hunt, Bramblethorn plunged into the bushes up to his shoulders. His hand closed tightly around Frodo's injured ankle. Frodo's agonized scream reverberated through the otherwise silent woods as Bramblethorn dragged him from the sheltering bushes.  
  
"NO!" Frodo shouted in desperation as Bramblethorn pinned him down on his back. The anger that had sustained him so far was overpowered by terror and pain. Bramblethorn in a calm, calculating frame of mind was bad enough, but the seething, clearly enraged enemy that bore down on him now was worse by far.  
  
"That was foolish, Frodo," Bramblethorn growled "Foolish, and discourteous," His tone was dripping sarcasm. "Your rejection of my hospitality cuts me deeply. I'm rapidly losing patience with you!" Bramblethorn glowered down at the terrified hobbit.  
  
Overtaken by the fear of what he saw in those eyes, Frodo struggled madly. Bramblethorn caught Frodo's wrists and held them pressed against the ground on either side of his head. "I'll take care of you and your defiance," He said, his tone no longer mockingly seductive, but merely vicious.  
  
Bramblethorn struck his captive sharply across the face. "Run, will you?" he sneered at Frodo, striking him again. "If you thought me cruel before - " Another slap. - "You will learn the meaning of the word anew!"  
  
Frodo brought the hand Bramblethorn had released up to ward off the blows, but only succeeded in fueling his attacker's frenzy.  
  
"Tell me, Frodo," Bramblethorn said harshly, backhanding the injured hobbit again. "Tell me to stop!" Frodo gasped as another blow landed. "Plead with me!" Slap!  
  
"P-please - " Frodo was just short of losing consciousness and the word came out in a tortured whisper.  
  
"What was that, Frodo?" Bramblethorn asked. Frodo had never heard a voice so filled with menace before. "I can't hear you!" Bramblethorn pulled back to strike again.  
  
"S-stop - " The word was barely audible, and if he heard it, Bramblethorn gave no sign. The last thing Frodo saw before darkness overwhelmed him was the horrifically satisfied look on Bramblethorn's face as he struck one last blow, leaving Frodo limp and unresponsive.  
  
"Not so defiant now, are you?" Bramblethorn said, looking down at his unconscious prisoner. Climbing to his feet, Bramblethorn grabbed Frodo's arms and began dragging the unconscious hobbit back to captivity in the dark, musty old smial.  
  
~*~  
  
He awakened slowly, and with a terrible headache from the blows Bramblethorn had rained upon him. He was bound and gagged again, lying on the shabby sofa in the parlor. When he opened his eyes his captor was there, staring intently at him.  
  
"Frodo," Bramblethorn sighed. "What am I going to do with you?" He spoke softly, stroking Frodo's hair back out of his eyes. "You mustn't leave me again, I couldn't bear it."  
  
At the sound of that voice, Frodo flinched and turned away. He didn't want to see the look that went with that tone. He'd seen it too many times already. It would be a lustful, greedy look, devoid of compassion. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and Frodo closed his eyes and lay still.  
  
"You must realize that your actions have consequences, my love." Bramblethorn lifted Frodo in his arms and began to carry him down the dark hallway to the rooms beyond the parlor.  
  
Through Frodo's haze, dark thoughts assailed him. This was it, then. Here, in the dark, not in the woods in the moonlight. Would Bramblethorn remove the gag just to be able to listen to him scream? Would it hurt as much as he thought it would? Even the mercy of death would be denied him, he was certain. He would be allowed to survive the assault, and perhaps others to follow.  
  
His eyes swam with tears as he was carried into a small, windowless room and placed on the floor again. Bramblethorn knelt beside him and brushed a tear away from Frodo's face with false tenderness.  
  
"Your clever trick earlier has caused me to rethink your accommodations. I can't allow a repeat performance." With that, he kissed Frodo lightly on the forehead and stood. "You'll be quite secure here, I assure you, " he told Frodo. "I won't be far away, dear. I'll be watching you more closely now, which I'll admit will not be an unpleasant task in the least."  
  
He left a single candle in the far corner of the room, stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Pulling a wooden chair from the kitchen, he propped it under the doorknob to secure the exit from outside. That would certainly prevent any further incidents during the remainder of the night.  
  
Frodo didn't know whether to be relieved or not when the things he had expected failed to come to pass. If not now, it would all happen later. More time to imagine the horror, the pain, the humiliation. As his consciousness faded, Frodo prayed that tonight, at least, Eru would grant him sleep without dreams.  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	7. Progress

Endymion - I love your feedback! Thanks for keepin' it real! Musn't poor Frodo heed the call of nature in his present state? Certainly. Taking the liberty of assuming such things are being seen to. Also, it was tempting to let Frodo whack Bramblethorn real hard with something on his way out the door, but I can't keep that nasty critter down! Any attempt in that direction resulted in a villain with a headache and a very bad mood. Poor Frodo! If you think he got it bad just for sneaking out - - - And you're right - it might have ended the story sooner than we'd have liked!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Yeah, I know. The old sprained ankle thing. Used, and re- used, it's true. I just couldn't think of any other way to slow him down, and letting Bramblethorn just catch up with him unaided by providence bored me too much. (Why are we writers so darn sadistic, anyhow?) Please forgive me?  
  
Camellia Gamgee Took - Glad you enjoyed the action in the last chapter. Adding to the "to do" list - oil door hinges!  
  
Aratlithiel - You are not alone at all in being glad to see Frodo with a backbone. I figure anyone who can carry a splinter of a Morgul Blade in his shoulder for 17 days must have some fight in him!  
  
Misstook1420 - Don't cry! Frodo's ok, I promise!  
  
Seregon - Yes, Bramblethorn is a bit of a psycho, isn't he? He's also an egomaniac. Lovely combination of character traits there! There will be more sparring between Frodo and Bramblethorn, certainly. Whether you could call it development of their relationship is up for debate. I'd say they have a lust - hate relationship. Bramblethorn lusts after Frodo, Frodo hates him!  
  
Aelfgifu - Whence the name of my villain? Rushford is the name of my friend's cat, to whom I owe an apology for misusing his name this way. He's a charming creature, really. "Bramblethorn", to me, sounds like something you don't want to step on with bare feet. It's prickly and nassssty, yes, precious!  
And now, since the action is speeding up a little and you guys have expressed consternation at being left in suspense, why don't we update a little early?  
The Way of Vengeance Chapter 7 - Progress  
  
Bramblethorn looked down at Frodo thoughtfully from the doorway. How long would the stubborn hobbit hold out against signing the document? So far Frodo was putting up considerable resistance, but Bramblethorn could tell his prisoner was frightened. He had seen it in Frodo's eyes. Those blue orbs widened in undisguised terror every time Bramblethorn touched him.  
  
There had to be a limit, some point at which Frodo's resolve would fail him. Bramblethorn had robbed him of his freedom, had rendered him completely helpless. Surely physical discomfort would wear him down as well. There was only one thing to do, and that was to keep at his prisoner, to be relentless. Perhaps it was time for them to chat once again.  
  
He watched Frodo turn from him as he reached down to stroke his hair. Good. He was making progress then. Once he had wanted Frodo to accept him, to be willingly in his company, but for now Bramblethorn found that it was enough that Frodo fear him. He had resolved to keep the promise he had made to strike fear into Frodo's defiant heart. It would be satisfying to see proud Frodo Baggins, who had scorned him so utterly, cowering before him.  
  
He paused for a moment, thinking. How hard would Frodo fight him when the time was at hand? He hoped to meet with at least a small amount of resistance. It would make it more interesting, more exciting. It was difficult to resist the temptation to have him now. The thought of that pale skin by the candlelight, that voice pleading with him between cries of - what? Pain, pleasure? Perhaps both? Those eyes - he pushed the thoughts away reluctantly. There was yet more to accomplish before then, and it must be seen to.  
  
Removing the gag so Frodo could speak, Bramblethorn smiled. "It's so hard for me to stay away from you, Frodo," he began. "I'm immensely glad of your company." He knelt on the floor beside his prisoner.  
  
Frodo had recovered somewhat from the beating Bramblethorn had given him and was glaring at his captor, a look that scarcely needed to be explained verbally. Bramblethorn smiled. "Just think, we've got the time and the privacy to get to know each other better," he said with a wink.  
  
"I know you as well as I care to," Frodo shot back. He turned away and lay on his side with his back to Bramblethorn, letting his gaze bore into the wall. The very sight of Bramblethorn sickened and infuriated him.  
  
"Such irresistible charm you have," he taunted his captive. "Certainly one of the endearing qualities that drew me so inexorably to you." He ran one hand lightly down Frodo's side, lingering over his ribs. Frodo twisted away from his touch.  
  
"Go ahead, Frodo. Struggle while you have the strength, for you won't always," Bramblethorn told him. "You can already feel your hunger and thirst, can't you? They will grow, Frodo. They will fill your mind and overwhelm all other thoughts until they are your constant companions."  
  
Frodo could feel Bramblethorn's breath on the back of his neck and he felt a chill wash over him. Was there no end to his cruelty? Anger flared again as the hand moved once more, tracing along the waistband of his breeches.  
  
"You are horrid beyond description," Frodo said fervently. He refused to look at Bramblethorn. "You deserved your exile and you deserve it still."  
  
"How ironic it is that the one who sent me away shall be the one who brings me back." Bramblethorn nuzzled the back of Frodo's neck mockingly as he spoke. "I have been anticipating the day of my return, Frodo. I've waited so long for you." He grasped Frodo and rolled him onto his back. "But then again, I have you here with me now, do I not? There you are, only inches away and completely irresistible." He planted a kiss on Frodo's neck, which brought on a fit of writhing and twisting.  
  
"You disgust me!" Frodo cried, his voice breaking. He felt violated and helpless, with no control over anything that happened to him. Resistance, though very probably futile, was his only refuge. If a cruel fate were all that awaited him, he would not go to meet it quietly.  
  
~I may not be able to prevent this from happening, but I swear I shall fight you!~ Frodo clutched at the thought, using it to anchor himself as firmly as possible against the storm breaking within him.  
  
"What did you say, Frodo? Did I hear you beg for more?" Bramblethorn asked nastily and continued kissing Frodo's neck roughly while reaching a hand inside his torn shirt.  
  
"Stop! You have no right to do this to me!" Frodo shouted in fear and horror, as Bramblethorn's hands caressed him in a way that had little to do with gentleness and nothing to do with love.  
  
"I care not if I have the right. I have the desire, and I have you, Frodo." Bramblethorn released him with a rough shove. "The more you defy me the more attention I shall lavish upon you, beloved."  
  
Finding the remnants of his voice, Frodo retorted, "Why must you do this? Surely someone who returns your affections -"  
  
"I suppose I simply enjoy a challenge, Frodo," Bramblethorn interrupted in a sarcastic tone. "You, my love, are most certainly a challenge." His tone changed again, to the icy, heart-piercing promise of approaching doom. "And I shall certainly enjoy you."  
  
Frodo tried to pull away, his face turned from his tormentor. He hated himself for crumbling to pieces every time Bramblethorn touched him. He could be brave until those hands roved over his body, threatening to take by force what would never be freely given. He wanted to fling back a stinging reply, but he could find no words.  
  
"Frodo, make it easier on yourself. Sign the document." Bramblethorn urged him. "The longer you play this stubborn game, the more you will suffer."  
  
"I will not comply with your wishes," Frodo answered, his voice trembling slightly. "Not any of them."  
  
Bramblethorn stuffed the gag back in Frodo's mouth and paused to make sure his bonds were still secure. Satisfied with his work, he placed his hands on Frodo's shaking shoulders and told him, "Save your strength then, my lovely one, for you shall need it!"  
  
He rose and left the room again, pondering as he went. Frodo would definitely break down eventually. What else could he do, a helpless prisoner with his choices limited to having only terror and misery to keep him company, or his captor with his taunting and his invasive, searching hands.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days with no news! Sam was almost beside himself with anxiety. He, Merry and Pippin had spent an entire day searching the countryside and had found no trace of Frodo. The next day they had gone into town and begun to ask the residents of Hobbiton if they had any information regarding his whereabouts. Nobody had seen or heard anything, but there were many offers of help.  
  
News traveled fast, and it seemed everyone was talking about the mystery. There had been volunteers who had been quick to assist with extended searches of the area surrounding Hobbiton, but none of them had found anything that pointed to an answer. There were also the few who were of the opinion that wherever old Bilbo had gone, Frodo had likely followed. After all, Frodo was the nephew of Old Mad Baggins, and had lived with him for a number of years. Perhaps Bilbo's eccentricities had passed to the young Master of Bag End, along with the property itself.  
  
Taking a break from walking the length and breadth of the town, Merry and Pippin had stopped into the Green Dragon. Maybe there they might be able to spread the word to hobbits traveling from other settlements.  
  
Merry felt almost like he was committing an evil, or at least disrespectful deed himself as he ordered a half-pint of ale. This was no time for indulging in such things. He consoled himself with the thought that he really didn't want it all that much. It would just look a little more natural if he were having an ale like the other hobbits gathered there, rather than merely walking around asking strange questions or listening to conversations.  
  
He and Pippin hoped they might catch some snippet of an exchange that would lead them in the right direction or that they would meet with someone who had some knowledge of where Frodo might be. Sam had chosen to remain at home. Neighbors and friends had been stopping by the Gamgees' residence in a steady stream since the alarm had been raised, and Sam didn't want to leave his Gaffer to handle all of them. Pippin was waiting for Merry at their table, keeping his ears open for anything unusual. Merry paid for the ale and went back to join his younger cousin.  
  
"Anything, Pip?" He asked, resuming his seat.  
  
"Not yet, Merry." Pippin looked at his tankard thoughtfully. Everyone he had spoken with so far had not seen Frodo for days, and in some cases, weeks. It didn't help that Frodo spent a lot of time alone. As a result, many of the Hobbiton residents wouldn't see him often on general principles. They wouldn't know if he had disappeared or was just buried in a book in his study.  
  
Pippin had arrived back at Bag End the day they had discovered that Frodo was missing, only to find Sam and Merry waiting for him with nothing new to report. All three of them had passed that day in a fruitless search. Which was better? Bad news or no news at all, Pippin wondered to himself.  
  
Merry sighed and sipped his ale. Voices swirled and drifted around the two hobbits. A part of a song or tale over here, a joke and a burst of laughter over there. Merry and Pippin were sitting near the bar, and they could hear parts of the conversations as patrons ordered ales and food. A group of three hobbits had just walked up and placed their order, and were talking amongst themselves as they waited for their ales.  
  
"I tell you, I heard it in Bywater," one of them said. "Might be just jabbering and foolishness, but I heard he's been seen there a few days ago."  
  
Merry's ears perked up a little and he listened more closely. News from Bywater? Who had been seen there? Were they talking about Frodo?  
  
The conversation at the bar continued. "That fellow as was banished by the Mayor a while back? That's a cart load, I reckon," The second hobbit said to the first speaker. "He was marched across the borders by a torch wavin' crowd, sure as I'm breathin'".  
  
The third hobbit laughed and gave his input. "Don't know what you lot are goin' on about anyhow, since you wouldn't know 'im from your pony's arse if he was standin' on your doorstep."  
  
Banished? Merry turned this over in his mind a few times. They weren't talking about Frodo then. The last time he could remember anyone being banished from the Shire was two years ago, and -  
  
He stopped in the middle of raising his tankard to his lips and his hand, tankard and all, hovered a few inches above the table. The last hobbit to be banished from the Shire, indeed the first in a very long while, was Rushford Bramblethorn. And he had been banished for attacking Frodo! Merry nearly spilled his ale.  
  
The three hobbits had moved away from the bar after that, and Merry didn't dare follow and ask them for details. That would be an admission that he had been listening in on their conversation, which might cause more trouble than it was worth. Besides, it didn't sound like they knew anything specific regarding Bramblethorn's exact whereabouts.  
  
Pippin looked at him in alarm as Merry thumped his tankard back against the table and stood up abruptly. "Merry? What is it?" the younger hobbit asked, looking up at his cousin.  
  
"Pip, we're going to Bywater. Let's go find Sam and tell him."  
  
Normally, Pippin would have been sorely averse to the idea of leaving a half-finished tankard of ale in his wake, but there wasn't much that was normal about this day. His cousin Frodo was nowhere to be found, and judging by Sam's reaction, something bad was afoot. He stood and followed Merry out the door and back to Bagshot Row.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam was sitting outside smoking his pipe and staring off into the distance. He looked up and stood when he saw Merry and Pippin coming up the path.  
  
"Sam!" Merry called, a touch of excitement in his voice. "We overheard something at the Green Dragon that might be of some value."  
  
Sam seemed to recover a little of his energy when he heard Merry's statement. "What did you hear, Mr. Merry? Has someone seen Mr. Frodo?" He asked, a little breathlessly.  
  
Merry told Sam what he and Pippin had overheard of the conversation at the bar. "I didn't hear any names mentioned, but Sam, how often does someone get banished from the Shire? It's a rare occurrence!"  
  
Sam's face drained of color and he sat down and let his head fall forward into his hands. If Rushford Bramblethorn had indeed come back to the Shire, they would have to find Frodo, and quickly. The thought of that creature laying a hand on Frodo again was unbearable.  
  
"This shouldn't have happened!" Sam said miserably. "I should have been there, Mr. Merry! I should have - "  
  
"Sam, you take wonderful care of Frodo," Merry consoled him. "You can't be everywhere at once. Not even Gandalf could do that, and he's a wizard!"  
  
"Part of me knows that, Mr. Merry," Sam replied, scrubbing a hand across his face wearily. "But there's another part that says I've failed him, and I'll be failing him until he's home where he belongs."  
  
Merry's heart swelled with pity for the hobbit sitting beside him. If Frodo so much as cut his finger in the kitchen, Sam would fret terribly in response. ~Thank the Valar that Frodo has someone like you, Sam,~ he thought. ~We should all have such good fortune.~  
  
Pippin sat down on Sam's opposite side and twisted a blade of grass between his fingers. "We'll find him, Sam. You'll see," Pippin said, giving Sam a small, hopeful smile. "Merry and I are going to Bywater," Pippin announced. "Are you coming too, Sam?"  
  
Sam weighed the options. He thought going to Bywater was a good idea, but he was also in favor of alerting Mayor Whitfoot. If Bramblethorn was indeed back in the Shire, the Mayor had better know about it. Merry and Pippin could get to Bywater quickly on their ponies. Michel Delving was a longer journey, and Sam was on foot. He made a decision.  
  
"I'd like to come along, if I could, Mr. Pippin," he answered. "I know I don't have a pony to ride, but I promise not to slow you down," he stated firmly. He could alert Mayor Whitfoot to the Bramblethorn rumor by post and would get a message out to him immediately.  
  
"Two ponies, and three hobbits," Merry mused. "We'll just take turns riding. It's not a great distance anyhow," he said thoughtfully. "I would leave the ponies here and suggest we all go on foot, but I think they might be useful."  
  
It was agreed. Immediately after supper they would depart for Bywater and continue to search for information there. Finally, a place to begin! The information wasn't much, but it was the only thing they had to work with.  
  
Sam wrote a brief message to Mayor Whitfoot explaining what Merry and Pippin had overheard and the fact that Frodo had gone missing. He asked the Mayor to contact him by post as soon as possible at the Eagle Feather Inn in Bywater. He was sure that Mayor Whitfoot would remember both Frodo and the incident two years ago. The rarity of such events in the Shire made it memorable to begin with.  
  
Merry had suggested that Sam hire a courier to take the message to Michel Delving immediately, rather than trusting it to the post. Merry paid the courier himself, and the message was sent with urgency.  
  
A grim expression lingered on Sam's face during supper. When Merry had mentioned the possibility that Bramblethorn was back within the borders of the Shire, it was all Sam could do to construct a coherent thought. If Bramblethorn did anything to Mr. Frodo resembling what Sam had prevented him from doing two years ago, Sam was determined he would do more than just hit the beast with a rock.  
  
~*~  
  
Day passed into night and night into another day with Frodo largely unaware. He slept when he could, but if Bramblethorn wandered in and caught him napping, he would be awakened by a sharp kick, usually followed by a nasty laugh or suggestive comment.  
  
If Bramblethorn himself was sleeping, Frodo would have a little bit of peace, but his discomfort interfered with his ability to take advantage of it. His captor had been right about his hunger and thirst becoming more noticeable. His appetite was not quite up to the legendary standard of most hobbits on general principles, but he was accustomed to good, square meals at regular intervals.  
  
He tried not to focus on the fact that he was sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty, frightened and in pain. If he thought about those things, they would most certainly overwhelm him. He tried to think of something else.  
  
He closed his eyes and remembered how he had cried in Sam's arms that day in the woods two years ago, and Sam had just held him and whispered quiet assurances. Much of his fear had drained away then, leaving peace in its wake. He tried to remember how it had felt, to have protective arms around him and gentle words whispered into his ear, and tried to live in that moment somewhere in his mind.  
  
He felt a sharp pain in his leg. "You sleep when I let you," he heard Bramblethorn say. "It's my game, and my rules," a whisper in his ear informed him. "I can remind you, if you like," Bramblethorn said ominously, and Frodo shrank back as the hands laid hold of him again.  
  
~*~ To be continued~*~ 


	8. Persuasion

FrodoBaggins1982 - Sam accepts your offer of a metal pipe. "Thank 'ee, Sir. That will do just fine. Now where is that filthy stinker?" Sam, Merry and Pippin have their first clue and are soon to follow it wherever it leads them.  
  
Endymion - Help must come, you're correct. Sam, Merry and Pippin are following clues and doing their best. How soon? Time will tell! Bramblethorn did sneak back into the Shire undetected. Those bounders were nowhere to be seen, and for the purpose of the plot I'm figuring the Rangers haven't begun their close watch on the Shire at this point. Perhaps they will after this!  
  
TTTurtle - The mind of Rushford Bramblethorn is a complicated thing. He is waiting largely because getting restored to the Shire is his main objective now. He's willing to torture Frodo for reasons of revenge, and because he's a sadistic freak who likes the feeling of power it gives him. You've got him right when you say that maybe he has such an ego he thinks he can just frighten Frodo into signing. As to getting to Frodo by possibly abducting Sam, Bramblethorn hasn't figured out how important Sam is to Frodo. Can't divulge any more here, as this chapter deals with just that point. Race against time? Yes. Definitely.  
  
Aratlithiel - Getting into Bramblethorn's head is a little scary. Bingo. You nailed it. It's definitely all part of his evil plan as far as waiting to have Frodo. The more he toys with Frodo, the more off-balance he can keep him. He's using that threat to increase Frodo's feelings of helplessness, all the better to break him down. And Merry is pretty observant, isn't he? When he's not getting into mischief, he's busy absorbing what's going on around him.  
  
Misstook1420 - Addicted, you say? Is there a support group for LOTR fanfic? I, for one, hope there isn't!  
  
********************************************************************  
  
Chapter 8 - Persuasion  
  
Frodo shifted his position slightly. He had long since given up trying to get comfortable. It was more a matter of deciding which part of his body was the numbest and shifting his weight elsewhere. Bramblethorn had visited him at intervals during the day. Following their last, brief conversation, he had left Frodo shuddering alone in the dark little room, and had gone about some other business. He had looked into the room once or twice since then, not to see if Frodo was in need of anything, but just to satisfy himself that his prize was still there, still awake, still frightened.  
  
The pattern was always the same. Frodo would doze off and be awakened by a kick, followed by some threat or undesired advance he had no defense against. If he struggled he met only with further abuse. As promised, there had been no food, no water. When was the last time he had eaten, Frodo wondered? Was Bramblethorn planning to starve him into submission? He pushed the thought from his mind. At least the gag had been dispensed with for the time being. Maybe Bramblethorn was tired of untying and replacing it every few hours.  
  
There was still the matter of the signature Bramblethorn wanted from him. The one thing he could do to hopefully end this waking nightmare was also the one thing he must not do, for the safety of the Shire. If he signed a retraction of his statement against Bramblethorn, the villain would most likely be allowed to return to the Shire and go back to his old ways. For that matter, what was to stop him from assaulting Frodo again? If Frodo recanted his testimony, nobody would believe any further complaints he might make.  
  
Frodo's musings were cut short as the door creaked open and Bramblethorn entered the room. As the other hobbit approached him, Frodo did his best to withdraw into himself. It was impossible to guess what was coming. More conversation? More physical abuse? He wasn't looking forward to either.  
  
"Poor dear. You must be very uncomfortable, Frodo," Bramblethorn said in a calm voice. "I could help you with that if only you would do the one thing I ask." Frodo had endured about as much of the false compassion as he was willing or able.  
  
"I will not! I cannot!" Frodo cried with what strength he could find. "You know as well as I that my statement was the truth," Frodo breathed. "If I do as you ask, you would commit the same act again, against me or someone else." The weight of that responsibility would be too great to bear. That he, Frodo Baggins should be the one to release this monster back into the Shire to torment the good people there - no! He reminded himself again that it was better that he suffer than the whole of the Shire.  
  
"You are as stubborn as you are beautiful, Frodo," Bramblethorn replied, and gave Frodo his most wolfish grin. "I've asked you politely, more than once, and yet you still refuse." His tone became icy and his gaze poisonous. "I am sorely tempted to abandon politeness altogether."  
  
Bramblethorn seized Frodo by his shirt again, managing to rip it further in the process. Hauling him up to a sitting position, he pushed his captive back against the wall, placing a hand on each of Frodo's shoulders. Bramblethorn leaned forward and leered into Frodo's frightened face.  
  
"You cannot refuse me forever, Frodo," he growled. Frodo had turned his face away from his tormentor, trying to block out the vision the only way he could. Bramblethorn forced Frodo's gaze back to his own. "Politeness has not persuaded you, but there are other ways."  
  
He gave Frodo his cruelest stare while pinning him against the wall. "You WILL sign that document, Frodo," Bramblethorn said coldly.  
  
"NO!" Frodo cried, refusing almost by habit alone.  
  
"Wretch!" Bramblethorn spat, and struck him. Frodo gritted his teeth and locked his gaze with Bramblethorn's. "You will do as I say, if not now, eventually," Bramblethorn snarled. "I am not giving you a choice, Frodo."  
  
"I am not asking you to give me a choice," Frodo said, summoning his remaining courage. "I am making one nonetheless." He took a deep breath and continued. "I choose to deny you victory." With each word he spoke, Frodo's voice strengthened. He felt time suspended as his words broke the stillness of the room. "You may take what you will from me, but I will give you nothing."  
  
For the first time during his captivity, Frodo thought he could see Bramblethorn's façade beginning to crack. The swaggering self - assurance seemed to fade slightly for an instant as impotent rage swelled to the surface.  
  
"Insolent fool!" Bramblethorn shook Frodo hard. "You are at my mercy, and I will show you none!" He punctuated the statement with another brutal slam against the wall. "I could take you now, as I would have that day in the woods, if your servant had not come to your aid!" He cupped Frodo's bruised face in his hands and sneered, "But I'm not in the mood!" He stood and walked out in a rage.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo slumped over as Bramblethorn left the room. He was so tired! He had put every ounce of his spirit into his defiant statement to his captor, risking grim retribution in response. He had nothing to lose or to gain by it, he decided. It seemed certain that Brambethorn would come for him sooner or later, to claim his body and shatter his soul. Frodo's vicious enemy was merely biding his time, choosing his moment.  
  
When would Bramblethorn tire of merely threatening him? When would one of the intimidating sessions of taunting and touching fail to end there? The thought was too abhorrent to entertain, but rose unbidden to Frodo's mind nonetheless.  
  
It was impossible to tell whether it was night or day in the little room, and Frodo had lost all track of time. He decided to try to sleep again. If he was fortunate, it would be nighttime and no one would be hovering nearby to kick him back to consciousness.  
  
After a while, sleep finally overtook him. Exhaustion triumphed over fear and pain, and for a while at least, Frodo was lost to all but dreams.  
  
~*~  
  
Bramblethorn's hands were shaking with rage as he lit his pipe. Frodo had looked him in the face and defied him more openly than ever before! Whence came such courage? It was absurd that a bound prisoner, aching with hunger and burning with thirst, brutalized and without rest, should be able to invoke such a spirit of willfulness.  
  
"Impossible creature!" Bramblethorn found himself saying aloud to no one but himself. "I shall strip you of your spirit," he growled. "I shall shatter you from within even as I do so from without!"  
  
As soon as the matter of his return to the Shire was resolved to his satisfaction, Bramblethorn vowed, he would show Frodo the true meaning of pain and suffering. He would rend that lovely creature's flesh and soul, savoring each moment, each desperate cry for non - existent mercy.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo slept fitfully, his head tossing from side to side and inarticulate sounds escaped him as he dreamed. He saw trees and sunlight, and heard the sound of a small stream flowing nearby. He could almost feel the late afternoon sun on his face as it slanted through the trees.  
  
Somehow, something just wasn't right about the scene. It should have a peaceful feeling about it, not this gnawing dread and fear that he felt. A shadow blocked the rays of the sun. Someone was standing over him, but the face of the person was indistinct and hazy.  
  
Suddenly, he could see another figure bursting thorough the undergrowth, rage evident in his features. It was Sam! His eyes were filled with anger, indignation and fear, though not for his own safety. He seemed to be shining from within somehow, as if the light of the sun that had tanned his skin had been absorbed even deeper still, to become a part of him. Glowing.  
  
Frodo saw Sam attack his tormentor, driving the evil presence away from his fallen form. He felt a surge of hope, filling him with brightness and warmth. And then it happened. As Sam engaged the evil shadow in furious combat, the evil presence overwhelmed the golden light, slowly snuffing it out to a flicker, then nothing.  
  
He heard himself screaming, a scream of agony, shame and complete bereavement. "SAAAAMMMMMM!"  
  
Awake. He was awake and breathing hard, his throat burning from the force of the desperate shriek. His face was wet with tears, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as if to block out the image that had been so real a moment before.  
  
Could darkness truly overwhelm light and snuff it out as in his dream? It mustn't be so! For if that were true, what good was defying the darkness?  
  
But he could see light even now, through the distortion of his tears. There, coming closer. A single, bright flame - a candle? A dark form stood over him with a candle in its grasp. The darkness, controlling the light, holding it.  
  
~No! Please, no!~  
  
Bramblethorn set the candle down on the floor and again was kneeling by Frodo's side. "You called out a name just now, Frodo," he said. "Your gardener, your brave servant who saved you. You called for him." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.  
  
Frodo's captor held something in his hand. A scroll and a quill pen. He bent over Frodo and looked into the tormented face before him. "You will not do this to save yourself, will you, Frodo? You would suffer terribly rather than submit for your own sake." His voice sounded oddly triumphant as he spoke again. "But for the sake of another, my love? What then?"  
  
He reached out and stroked a wayward curl away from Frodo's forehead. "For the sake of another, would you do as I ask?" He whispered directly into Frodo's ear, and his voice hardened. "You called his name, Frodo. I know where to find him. He is dear to you, is he not? If you will not submit for your own sake, what about his?"  
  
No! It couldn't be. Frodo's resolve fled from him in a rush as the malignant words lingered in his ears. ~Elbereth! What have I done?~ he thought in horror.  
  
~Sam! I will not lose you! I will not allow him to harm you!~  
  
"I will seek him out, Frodo."  
  
~I will not be the cause of your sorrow and pain!~  
  
"I will visit upon him every torment I have given you and more."  
  
~Sam! Forgive me! He has found my heart and holds the blade that will pierce it. You are too dear to me. You are my only light in this darkness. I will sacrifice all else, but not you, Sam. Not you.~  
  
"For the last time, Frodo. Will you give me what I ask?" Bramblethorn held the scroll out before Frodo's face.  
  
Heartbroken, Frodo raised his eyes slowly to look at the evil face above him. "Yes. I will do as you wish," he said simply, his voice a mere whisper.  
  
Bramblethorn propped him up in the corner and untied the bonds around his hands. Frodo's fingers tingled painfully as circulation was restored to them at last. When he was able to coax life back into his hands, he took the pen and the document from Bramblethorn's hand.  
  
Slowly, haltingly, he signed his name at the bottom. And in the midst of his shame and dread, there came an inspiration. One last thing he could attempt in order to salvage the situation. Beneath his name in his graceful hand, he inscribed a very short phrase in Quenya.  
  
"What is that?" Bramblethorn asked, scorn dripping from his voice as he eyed Frodo suspiciously. "What are you up to?" Snarling, he grasped Frodo's shoulders and gave him a rough shake.  
  
"It's Elvish. Another Baggins oddity," Frodo said quietly, not looking at Bramblethorn. "I sign my name in both Common and Elvish on any document of importance."  
  
Bramblethorn grinned. At last, he had discovered the one weakness he could exploit in order to break his prisoner. Why hadn't he seen it before? That gardener must be quite dear to Frodo, perhaps more so than was proper, he thought with amusement. He rolled the scroll up tightly and placed it and the pen on the floor beside him.  
  
"Thank you, Frodo," Bramblethorn said and enfolded him in a mockery of a tender embrace. Frodo shoved him away and turned from him, burying his face in his hands. Not even willing to give Frodo this moment of pure grief, Bramblethorn grabbed Frodo's wrists and turned the smaller hobbit to face him. He again bound Frodo's hands, but in front this time.  
  
"Leave me be!" Frodo sobbed. "You have what you wanted. What further use is it to you to torment me?"  
  
"My sincerest apologies, beloved," Bramblethorn replied in a tone that implied that he was anything but apologetic, "but I must keep you with me a while yet. This document must reach the Mayor, if I am to be granted re- entry to the Shire. Only then will this matter be resolved."  
  
"And what then? Will you let me go?" Frodo asked, fearing the response.  
  
"Hmmm. Now there's a good question, Frodo." Bramblethorn made a show of pondering his position on the matter. "To be bereft of your company would be very difficult for me. You see, I've grown quite attached to you."  
  
Ahh, yes. Blue eyes, wide with fear. "And I've been too busy with other matters to pay you the attention you truly deserve." He brushed his fingers lightly over Frodo's cheek again, looking into his eyes. Lovely. "But do not fear, dear one. I shall make up for lost time, I promise you."  
  
"I loathe you," Frodo answered him softly, eyes downcast.  
  
Bramblethorn laughed. It was not a light - hearted, contented sound, but something cruel and ugly.  
  
"Do you, dear Frodo? I must speak with the Mayor first, and then we shall celebrate." Bramblethorn toyed with a lock of hair behind Frodo's ear. "Together," he whispered.  
  
~*~ To be continued ~*~ 


	9. Revelations

TTTurtle - What did Frodo write in Elvish? Read on and discover!  
  
Camellia Gamgee Took - Yes, Mr. Frodo's in a pickle for sure. Bramblethorn knows now what Sam means to him.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - The mental image of Bramblethorn with a face full of ink and a quill up his nose is priceless! If Frodo had been in less of a state of horribly depressed shock, he might have done just that! Would have enjoyed it too, let me tell you! You were the first to guess correctly in regards to the Elvish, as you'll see in this chapter.  
  
Endymion - Can the Mayor read Quenya? We'll find out pretty soon! Bramblethorn is going to have to show himself soon, at least to the Mayor if no one else. The story continues.  
  
Seregon - Regarding Chapter 7 - Yes, I'm giving Sam a little more forwardness than usual in having him draft a message to the Mayor. Normally, he would be reluctant to "get above his station" that way, but it's his Frodo we're talking about here! Frodo being in trouble is probably the only thing that might make Sam go out on a limb like that. I was also thinking in terms of book cannon and how Sam eventually becomes Mayor himself. Those leadership qualities you mentioned had to have started somewhere, eh?  
  
And with regard to Chapter 8 - You read my mind as to Frodo's condition. We'll be taking care of him right soon. After all, Bramblethorn doesn't want to lose him yet. He has plans, the nasty creature! And who is going to decipher Frodo's message? See below!  
  
Misstook1420 - No, Sam wouldn't have wanted Frodo to sign that document. Frodo cares so much for Sam that a threat to him is more than he can handle in his current state. Stay tuned to see what Frodo wrote!  
  
Aratlithiel - Thanks for your tremendous compliments on Chapter 8! Glad you liked the imagery with the candle. Shame on Bramblethorn indeed! Using Sam to get to Frodo is just the kind of heartless, despicable thing he would do!  
  
Kyotyred - Hurrah! Another reader comes forth! It's good to have you join us! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you for your kind words. More excitement ahead, as we find out just what Frodo was up to with that bit of Elvish.  
Chapter 9 - Revelations  
  
Sam, Merry and Pippin arrived in Bywater in the night. The Eagle Feather Inn was not impressive, but it wasn't shabby either. The innkeeper was pleasant and efficient, having the hobbits checked into their room and the ponies stabled in a matter of a few minutes.  
  
The trio spent a short while in the common room of the inn, listening for more clues as to Bramblethorn's appearance in the area. The crowd was thinning out by that time, and it was plain that nothing more was to be learned that night.  
  
Instructions were left with the innkeeper to the effect that any messages from Michel Delving were to be brought to their attention immediately. Sam hoped fervently that the Mayor would take his message to heart. Writing to the Mayor was not an action commonly taken by a gardener, but Mayor Whitfoot seemed to be a solid fellow, and had a reputation for taking an interest in the concerns of all of the good citizens of the Shire. If the presence of Rushford Bramblethorn in the Shire didn't qualify as a concern of the citizens, Sam couldn't think of what would.  
  
Merry, Pippin and Sam retired for the night, planning to start looking for clues regarding Bramblethorn's presence and Frodo's whereabouts the following morning.  
  
~*~  
  
~*~The next day~*~  
  
Bramblethorn was going to town. It was afternoon and time to meet his courier for an update. No sooner had the ink of Frodo's signature dried than the document was placed in the hands of the courier and sent on its way to Michel Delving. The courier had ridden through the remainder of the night to deliver the message early in the morning. Bramblethorn had arranged to meet the courier to verify that the Mayor had received the parcel, and to set a new time to meet for an update.  
  
He reluctantly conceded that he must make some provision for his prisoner as well. Frodo was looking decidedly unwell, and it would seriously endanger him to let him go without at least something to drink for much longer. Bramblethorn wanted Frodo to be coherent and aware when he fulfilled his promise to take him. He wanted him to be strong enough to remain conscious, to struggle at least enough to make it exciting. It wouldn't do to have Frodo pass out due to hunger and thirst in the middle of it all.  
  
He finished his preparations and paused briefly on his way out, standing in the doorway to gaze at his sleeping prisoner. He realized he found Frodo to be even more remarkable than he had guessed. More headstrong, more noble, more resilient. It almost seemed a shame to break such a spirit. Almost.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo had been sleeping again. Whether it was night or day was unknown to him as he lay in the windowless room. He stirred groggily. It was then that he smelled the food. By the light of the candle he saw a tray with some bread and cheese, some fruit and a flask of water. He wondered if he was dreaming again. Perhaps Bramblethorn wasn't going to let him die of starvation after all. As it was, he felt barely strong enough to force himself to sit upright.  
  
It was a bit tricky at first, but Frodo was able to reach the food with his hands bound in front. No feast had ever tasted as good as this modest repast. He had lost track of how long it had been since he had eaten, and his thirst was nearly maddening. The relief of water finally coursing down his parched throat was nearly enough to make him weep.  
  
How long was Bramblethorn planning to keep him there? Surely it would take little time to get the signed document to the Mayor in Michel Delving. What might take longer was for the Mayor to act upon it. And once that had been achieved, what next? Bramblethorn had made no promises as to Frodo's future, at least none that Frodo cared to contemplate.  
  
Feeling a little better for a full stomach, Frodo lay down and closed his eyes again. Being asleep was far better than being awake, and since he had signed the document, Bramblethorn wasn't kicking him back to alertness anymore. His feelings of guilt for having betrayed all the Shire - for he believed he had done just that - combined with his fears for Sam were burdens that lay heavily upon him in his waking hours.  
  
When he slept, sometimes he dreamed. The dreams weren't always a refuge, and he would wake in a cold sweat, each breath coming rapidly and painfully. Upon his signing of the document retracting his testimony, he had effectively signed away any protection he might have had against Bramblethorn's taking his crude advances to the next level.  
  
Bramblethorn had no reason now to refrain from cruelly using him as was his original intent. Frodo knew he could expect no mercy from Bramblethorn when the time came. He had angered his captor with his constant defiance of him, and Bramblethorn would be sure to take that anger out on him, body and soul.  
  
He prayed that Bramblethorn would not harm Sam now that he had what he wanted. Or rather, Bramblethorn thought he had what he wanted. Frodo almost smiled to himself as he thought about the words he had inscribed in Quenya under his name. It was a long shot. He rather doubted that anyone in the Mayor's office had bothered to learn any Elvish.  
  
Perhaps years from now, someone with some knowledge of Quenya would look at the document and realize what had happened. It would be too late to stop Bramblethorn from achieving his aims, but at least, eventually, someone would know the truth.  
  
~*~  
  
After a good breakfast that even satisfied Pippin's prodigious appetite, the trio from Hobbiton set out to see what they could learn about Bramblethorn. The hobbits Merry had heard speaking at the Green Dragon said the rumor of his presence was being heard in Bywater. If that were true, somebody somewhere should have something to say about it.  
  
In addition, Sam had brought with him a portrait of Frodo he had seen many times at Bag End. It was fairly recent, and had been commissioned by Bilbo and drawn by a local artist with great skill. The plan was to ask if anyone had seen a hobbit resembling Frodo, or knew of Rushford Bramblethorn. It could be a long day, Sam surmised.  
  
They canvassed the area around the town square before luncheon, with no important results to speak of. Everyone who looked at Frodo's portrait said they had not remembered seeing anyone who resembled the hobbit in the picture. They had not heard any talk about Rushford Bramblethorn either. Any description of Bramblethorn was met with a shake of the head. Nobody seemed to know about him.  
  
After luncheon, they began to check the other inns and some local businesses. By suppertime, they were tired and hungry, and deeply frustrated with not having turned up any clues. A good portion of the town remained to be searched, and it looked like another long day lay ahead of them.  
  
As they returned to the inn, the innkeeper met them with a smile. "You lads have been expected, you have!" He exclaimed with far more energy than Sam, Merry or Pippin felt they could muster after their long day. "If you'll follow me, your supper is waiting."  
  
Sam's eyes must have asked the question before his voice could catch up. The innkeeper continued, "As fine a table as I've seen in many a day, and awaiting the guests of honor." The innkeeper led them through the common room to an area toward the back. A curtain closed off a small private dining room.  
  
If Sam was uncomfortably curious, Pippin was positively suffering. "Merry, what is all this?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"Very interesting, to say the least," Merry answered him, as they were guided to the table.  
  
The feast laid out before them was amazing. Whoever had planned this was serious about his cuisine indeed. Sam stared in wonder. Where had all this come from, and who had provided it? As they were about to sit down, the fattest hobbit any of them had ever seen emerged through the curtains. Sam was hard put to conceal his shock.  
  
"Mayor Whitfoot!" he gasped, surprised to see the important hobbit in Bywater, and inviting them to supper as well. There must be some mistake. His Gaffer would never believe this, Sam reflected.  
  
"Yes, young fellow, the very same," said the portly, gray-haired hobbit. "Thank you for joining me for supper, lads! Which one of you is Samwise Gamgee?"  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Mayor, but that's me," Sam stammered. There he was, a gardener, face to face with the Mayor himself, and invited to supper with him as well! Sam recovered from his astonishment enough to introduce Merry and Pippin.  
  
"Saradoc's young lad, aren't you?" Mayor Whitfoot greeted Merry.  
  
"Yes, Sir." Merry shook the Mayor's hand. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Mayor."  
  
Turning to Pippin, he exclaimed, "And young Peregrin Took! The last time I saw you, you were knee-high to a Dwarf! I remember you hiding behind your Ma's skirts while your father and I were chatting at the Free Fair."  
  
Pippin smiled and shook the Mayor's hand, blushing furiously. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir."  
  
Mayor Whitfoot addressed Sam again. "I received your letter by courier early this morning," he said. "A second courier came from here in Bywater and left a message for me this morning as well. I felt I should come to Bywater in person, and right away, because I believe you would be quite interested in the contents of that second message."  
  
Mayor Whitfoot had the attention of all three hobbits at his table immediately with that statement. As they sat down to supper, the Mayor gave them the details.  
  
"Samwise, to start with, I was very concerned when I got your letter. A disappearance in the Shire is a serious thing. Of course, this is not the first time a Baggins has disappeared from the Shire as I recall."  
  
Sam found himself opening his mouth to speak defensively, before he remembered it was the Mayor he was about to chastise for criticizing Mr. Frodo's family. He bit back his comments and listened.  
  
"What stirred me about it and made me feel that it wasn't just more eccentric foolishness was your mention of that Bramblethorn scoundrel." The Mayor's eyebrows went up as he spoke the name. "If he truly is abroad in the Shire again, he must be dealt with expediently."  
  
"Now, as to the second document I received this morning." Mayor Whitfoot drew a small scroll out of his vest and laid it on the table. "I found it to be an interesting coincidence that you should mention Bramblethorn in your letter, and that I should receive on the same morning a message from that very individual." A collective gasp went up from the other three hobbits gathered around the table. "What I have here is a signed statement by Frodo Baggins, retracting his testimony regarding the Bramblethorn affair."  
  
Shocked looks passed from one hobbit to the next. Merry gaped in open astonishment, and Pippin looked as if he'd just seen a herd of oliphaunts walk through the room.  
  
"That's impossible, Mr. Mayor, Sir!" Sam exclaimed, his face ashen. There was no chance that Mr. Frodo would sign such a document. It had to be a forgery!  
  
"I agree with Sam, Mr. Mayor," Merry said evenly as Pippin nodded in affirmation beside him. "That incident was very upsetting for Frodo, and it has taken him the better part of two years to come to peace with it. Why would he ever retract his testimony?"  
  
"I am wondering the same thing, my lad." The Mayor opened the scroll and laid it flat on the table for all to see. "But here it is, signed and sealed." Sam leaned over it and examined the signature. It was definitely in Frodo's hand. But underneath it was something that caused him to gasp involuntarily.  
  
"Mr. Mayor, Mr. Frodo did sign this document, it's certain." Merry and Pippin gaped at Sam, unable to believe what they were hearing. Sam spoke again, his voice betraying his emotion as he did. "Look under his name for a moment, please, Sir." Sam pointed to the delicate characters inscribed beneath Frodo's signature. "Mr. Frodo has been teaching me to read and write some Elvish, Sir. I'm no scholar like Mr. Frodo, but I can read that."  
  
Pippin piped up from across the table. "What does it say, Sam? What was cousin Frodo trying to tell us?"  
  
Sam's voice began to tremble as he looked around the table at the Mayor and Frodo's cousins. "It says, 'Captive in Bywater.'" Nobody spoke. They were staring at the page, amazed at their incredible luck, and Frodo's quick thinking under pressure. Frodo had indeed signed the document, but added the line in Elvish to let them know he had been forced to do so. It was just pure luck that Sam had been given access to the document and seen the message written there.  
  
"Mr. Frodo is here, somewhere in Bywater!" Sam had forgotten entirely about his supper.  
  
~*~  
  
Bramblethorn returned to the smial with a sense of satisfaction. His courier had confirmed delivery of the signed document to the Mayor that morning, and all that remained now was to await the reply. Undoubtedly the Mayor would want to meet with him as soon as possible. He would meet with the courier again the following afternoon in hopes that the Mayor's reply had been delivered.  
  
He stopped by the door of the room where his captive lay sleeping. He opened it and gazed into the gloom, his eyes lingering on Frodo's bound form in the corner. A cursory inspection revealed a pale, fragile - looking creature, sleeping fitfully on the dirt floor.  
  
Frodo's head tossed from side to side, and words escaped his lips as he writhed in the grip of a dream. "Amin delotha lle!" He breathed. "Amin feuya ten' lle!"  
  
Bramblethorn frowned to himself. It was naught but gibberish! Frodo was a mystery, to be sure. A fascinating, infuriating, alluring mystery indeed. He closed the door and propped the chair up under the knob again, then paused in the hallway to light his pipe.  
  
"Pleasant dreams, Frodo," he said to the emptiness. As he walked away from the door, his eyes narrowed somewhat and a slight smirk spread across his face.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~  
  
A/N - Translation of Frodo's Elvish  
  
Amin delotha lle - I hate you  
  
Amin feuya ten' lle - You disgust me  
  
Source - www.grey-company.org 


	10. Following

FrodoBaggins1982 - Good thing Bramblethorn doesn't understand Elvish, eh? Sam has been doing his lessons faithfully. Go Sam! The timeline is little confusing, and gave me some headaches as I was writing. Chapter 10 will pick up the same evening with Sam and company, and then move on to the following morning. We can figure Frodo has been in Bramblethorn's care for around 4 to 5 days at this point.  
  
Aelfgifu - Bramblethorn's smile at the end of last chapter was intended to produce a case of the willies. Looks like it worked! I had Frodo speak a little Elvish in his sleep to show that behind the courage, there is still a vulnerable side that is being affected.  
  
MissTook1420 - Thank goodness for the Elvish lessons indeed! Sam's been a good student. Needing your story fix? Here ya go!  
  
Camellia Gamgee Took - Yes, Sam's interest in all things having to do with Elves has been a good investment, I'd say. Frodo was speaking Quenya while having a nightmare about you - know - who. The translation is "I hate you" and "You disgust me." Good thing Bramblethorn doesn't know Elvish!  
  
Safjazz - Hello! Great to have you drop by! If we told young Pre - Quest Samwise that he would be Mayor someday, I think he'd accuse us of having one too many at the Green Dragon! Mayor Whitfoot is impressed with that young hobbit, though! Sam and company will be rushing to Frodo's rescue, but first they have to find out just where he is. Therefore, there will be some story left before that happens.  
  
Endymion - Give our beloved psychopath more time? He's still got some time left in the spotlight, rest assured. Will Bramblethorn fulfill his "promise" to Frodo? I can tell you that at this time he fully intends to. Will Sam get there in time? The race is on!  
  
ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - Another new reviewer to this story! Wow, you guys are coming out of the woodwork and just makin' my day! I don't like to keep you guys waiting too long for more either. I have such a good time hearing from all of you! I too, have a hard time leaving poor Frodo in his predicament, and poor Sam in his agitated state.  
  
Aratlithiel - Will they find Frodo in time? Let's find out, shall we? I know I've been updating pretty fast. I just can't leave you guys hanging like that! Plus, this is a fairly fast - paced story, and I want to keep the momentum going. This chapter is a little short in comparison with some of the others, but I promise a longer one for Chapter 11.  
Chapter 10 - Following  
  
Pippin spoke up. "But Sam, we don't know where in Bywater Bramblethorn may be hiding Frodo. How are we going to find him?"  
  
Sam had been pondering the same question. It looked as though Bramblethorn hadn't taken any chances on being seen with Frodo in his custody. "Nobody we talked to today had seen Mr. Frodo. He's got to be somewhere out of the way."  
  
"And if Frodo was taken from Bag End in the night," Merry added, "Bramblethorn could have brought him to Bywater under cover of darkness and hidden him someplace without being seen." He could be anywhere, Merry thought silently.  
  
Someone had to have seen Bramblethorn at some time during his stay in Bywater! After all, the villain had ventured forth to send a message by courier to the Mayor. Sam blinked and looked up as the meaning of that thought struck him. "Mr. Mayor, who delivered the scroll to you?"  
  
"A representative of Bywater Couriers," the Mayor answered.  
  
Merry's eyes lit up. "I think I see where you're going with this, Sam," he said. "Someone at Bywater Couriers knows where and when to deliver any reply from the Mayor to Bramblethorn. They must have made an arrangement regarding when and where to meet. If Mayor Whitfoot were to write a message in answer and we give it to the same courier, we could follow the courier and find Bramblethorn."  
  
"Find Bramblethorn and we find Frodo," Pippin finished.  
  
"I expect that Bramblethorn will probably not meet the courier in the same place where he is holding Frodo," Mayor Whitfoot cautioned. "You would then have to rely on Bramblethorn to lead you to Master Baggins. "It could be dangerous."  
  
Sam shook his head slowly. "I can't think of no other way. We have no way of knowin' where that devil has hidden Mr. Frodo otherwise." The others nodded in agreement.  
  
Mayor Whitfoot considered for a moment. "I suggest that I respond to Master Bramblethorn by offering to meet with him tomorrow evening. That will get him out of your way while you search for Master Baggins."  
  
"That's a good idea," Pippin agreed. "but what will happen to him after that?" Pippin had broached the subject that weighed on the minds of all three hobbits.  
  
"He will be detained here," the Mayor answered gravely. "I will have the help of the innkeeper and some sturdy lads. He will be held accountable and punished, I assure you."  
  
After supper the Mayor composed a short message to Bramblethorn, stating that he had come to Bywater and wished to meet with him at the Eagle Feather Inn to discuss the document. The message would be taken to the courier and the courier followed to the point of delivery.  
  
Sam, Merry and Pippin thanked the Mayor for supper and retired early in preparation for a very busy day ahead.  
  
~*~  
  
The next morning, Merry stood outside the small wooden building with the sign that read 'Bywater Couriers', the Mayor's message in his hand. Pippin and Sam would wait outside. They surmised that it might look odd to have all three of them bringing a message from the Mayor. It was better to have one of them pose as the Mayor's emissary, and Merry could use that Brandybuck charm to good ends when he chose to.  
  
As he walked in, Merry looked around him. There was a slightly untidy desk nearby and a hobbit stood behind it shuffling through a stack of items. There was another hobbit at a second desk scratching away with a quill pen. Besides the three of them, there was nobody else around.  
  
"Excuse me, Sirs, but I have an important message from Mayor Will Whitfoot that must be delivered to a Mr. Rushford Bramblethorn." The hobbit who had been writing with the quill looked up at the mention of the name.  
  
"I'll take the parcel, if you please, Sir," the hobbit said, rising from his desk.  
  
Merry thought of something. "If I may ask, will this be delivered quickly today? The Mayor wishes to meet with Mr. Bramblethorn early this evening."  
  
The courier looked at Merry with annoyance. The Mayor's emissaries were a nosy lot! "Yes, you may tell the Mayor that delivery would be scheduled for after luncheon."  
  
Merry smiled congenially. "Thank you, good Sir, I will tell him." Merry gave the courier a few coins and with another smile and a polite bow of his head, he turned and stepped out the door. Sam and Pippin were waiting for him just around the corner.  
  
"All done," Merry told them with satisfaction. He managed to look a bit smug as he made his next statement. "And as a special treat for us, I managed to find out that the delivery will be made today after luncheon."  
  
"Good, Merry! We won't have to wait around all day!" Pippin was pleased to hear the news. It would be a very long day indeed if all there was to do was wait around near a courier's office.  
  
"I know which one of the couriers is taking the message," Merry said. "I'll point him out to you when he comes out of the building. After that, we'll split up and follow at a distance."  
  
There were still a couple of hours before luncheon, and they decided to go back to the inn for a brief rest and to go over their plans once again, in detail.  
  
~*~  
  
Near time for luncheon, Sam, Merry and Pippin returned to the area of the couriers' offices and settled in to wait until the courier left the building. Merry had thought better of wearing the same clothing he had worn that morning. Suppose the courier should catch sight of him and recognize him? He had switched from the bright yellow weskit he had worn earlier into something of a more subdued shade.  
  
Upon reaching the street where Bywater Couriers was located, they lingered within clear sight of the building, but not conspicuously so. A short time later, the courier Merry had spoken with emerged from the building with a message in his hand.  
  
"That's him," Merry whispered and pointed out the courier. "Let's see where he's off to."  
  
Sam crossed to the other side of the street but continued to follow the courier as he went. Merry and Pippin stayed on the same side of the street as the courier, following at a distance so as not to be noticed. Merry was especially careful not to be seen, since the courier knew what he looked like. A change of clothing helped, but he couldn't change his blonde curls or facial features. The weather was lovely, so hiding behind the hood of a cloak was out of the question. The hobbit carrying the Mayor's message made for his destination at a steady pace, never looking behind him.  
  
The courier made several turns and continued for a few blocks until he reached a small shop that sold pipeweed and accessory items. Signs in the window advertised the price per weight for several varieties, including Old Toby and Longbottom Leaf. There were several other shops in the area, and the Hobbiton trio were able to blend in with the other hobbits milling around. Merry and Pippin rejoined Sam and pretended to be inspecting apples for sale at a stand across the road from the pipeweed shop. They waited.  
  
Sam watched closely as a stocky hobbit with sandy brown hair and a bit of a swagger approached the shop. Sam felt his chest tighten as he watched the hobbit enter the small building. He recognized Rushford Bramblethorn instantly. He would probably never forget that nasty creature as long as he lived. Sam fought the impulse to cross the street, haul Bramblethorn out of the shop and take care of him right then and there.  
  
The courier had waited a few moments, then walked into the shop after Bramblethorn. Sam watched intently, wishing he could overhear the conversation between the two. He saw Bramblethorn take the message, a satisfied look on his face. The courier accepted a few coins from Bramblethorn and left.  
  
From his vantage point across the road, Merry chuckled to himself. Taking payment at delivery and receipt, he mused. That courier wasn't doing too badly. It was likely that Bramblethorn had paid him a little extra to keep his mouth closed about things. After all, Bramblethorn was in the Shire against a Mayoral decree.  
  
Bramblethorn was still in the shop, and appeared to be purchasing some pipeweed. Sam took advantage of the moment to speak with Merry and Pippin.  
  
"I don't think we should all follow him," he said. "He's a wily stinker, and he might spot three of us. Mr. Merry, I'd like to go after him, if you please." No surprise that Sam wanted to be the first to know where Bramblethorn had taken Frodo. Merry and Pippin understood and respected Sam's request.  
  
"Merry and I will go tell the Mayor what's happening," Pippin suggested.  
  
Merry nodded, then fixed Sam with a stern look. "You be careful, Sam. You know better than we that Bramblethorn is dangerous."  
  
Sam's eyes seemed to cloud over slightly and his face took on a determined look. "I know, Mr. Merry." Sam's eyes flashed. "And so am I!"  
  
Merry looked into Sam's eyes and didn't doubt it for a moment. He pitied Bramblethorn if Sam should get his hands on him.  
  
~*~  
  
Pippin and Merry immediately started back to the inn to give the Mayor the details and to await Sam's return. They were both very concerned, since they didn't know where Sam would be in the next hour. If Bramblethorn discovered Sam following him, something could happen to Frodo's beloved gardener, and they wouldn't know Sam's whereabouts any more than they knew Frodo's.  
  
"Sam will be all right, won't he Merry?" Pippin asked, genuine concern flooding his features.  
  
"I hope so, Pip," Merry replied with a sigh. "I don't like leaving him on his own, but he had a point. The three of us tailing Bramblethorn would be a lot easier to detect, especially if he leaves the main part of town where we have buildings and crowds to use as cover." Besides that, Merry knew Sam was a capable hobbit.  
  
They continued on to the inn, silently praying that Sam would succeed in finding the location of Bramblethorn's lair.  
  
~*~ To be continued ~*~ 


	11. In the Darkness

TTTurtle - I got the alert for your review of Chapter 9 exactly 2 seconds after uploading Chapter 10. I was going to remove it and add my acknowledgement of your comments, but it prompted me that it would remove the whole story plus all reviews if I did! Ahh, stranded on the information superhighway. Yes, Chapter 9 was kinda short. Chapter 10, too. Hope this one makes up for it! Bramblethorn's not as smart as he thought, is he? What more will I put Frodo through before Sam can reach him? Answers to be found herein.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Thank you for your compliments on my characterizations of the hobiits. Can Sam get around without being seen? Let's find out.  
  
Aelfgifu - Samwise the Brave is ready for action! More creepy Bramblethorn and Frodo scenes? Got one coming up.  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - You're feeling a sense of desperation regarding getting to the end of this story and getting Frodo safely home? Allow me to join you! Let's see how our heroes are doing.  
  
Endymion - Many good questions! I'm doing some revising of future chapters dealing with the specific question of how to deal with Bramblethorn. It is a challenge, since crime and punishment in hobbit culture is a wide - open subject. Bramblethorn is very self-assured. Sam may be safe to follow him to his lair IF he's very careful. Will Sam be able to refrain from thrashing Bramblethorn on the spot? Watch this space for answer. We'll see Frodo again this chapter.  
  
Map - Another new reader! Thanks for joining us. I've received many positive comments on Frodo's defiance and bravery in this fic. You're right, he carried the Ring into Mordor, and that's not a job for the faint - hearted! That's our Frodo, and we love him!  
  
Misstook1420 - Will something go wrong with the plan? A weird plot twist perhaps? Hmmm. Let me see.  
  
Aratlithiel - Will I let Sam off easily? How can a normally sane person worry about the fate of fictional characters? Because of a wonderful thing called imagination, without which things are much to dull!  
  
ZoSo Gamgee-Baggins - Can't wait for Sam to find Frodo? And hasn't Sam got something important to tell him? Yes, Sam does have something he wants to say to Frodo, and Frodo has something to tell Sam too. Eventually.  
Chapter 11 - In the Darkness  
  
As Bramblethorn left the shop, Sam began to follow slowly, weaving his way in and out of the groups of hobbits walking down the street and keeping his eyes riveted on the back of Bramblethorn's head.  
  
~Take me to him, you beast,~ Thought Sam angrily. ~Show me where you've got him!~ He busied himself thinking of what he'd do to that awful creature when he got his chance. He was surprised by the ferocity of his thoughts and how little guilt he experienced over them. Sam had always been a gentle sort, but when it came to someone harming Frodo, something else awakened in him. Nothing short of grim death could turn him aside from protecting Frodo. That was his place, simple enough.  
  
Sam followed Bramblethorn at a safe distance. He seemed to be heading for the far side of the small settlement. Sam hoped it wasn't a long way. He could manage to stay hidden easily within the confines of the town, and could use the undergrowth as cover once the buildings thinned out and nature took over. However, the longer he had to tail Bramblethorn, the greater the possibility that he would be discovered.  
  
He took great care to avoid being seen. Hobbits could be quite stealthy when they wished, and Sam had a knack for stepping silently. He had honed his skill in that area as a child, doing things a young lad usually does. He could sneak up on his sisters without being heard and deposit a grass snake nearby, or perform some other childish prank without them being the wiser to his presence. He was now long past the age for such activities, but some of the skills had remained with him.  
  
As he followed his quarry, Sam found himself turning the same thoughts over in his head again and again. Frodo, in the clutches of that evil creature, being subjected to Eru knew what kind of horrible abuse. He couldn't bring himself to ponder the specifics. The thought of Bramblethorn violating Frodo's body and breaking his mind and gentle spirit nearly undid Sam completely if he allowed himself to consider the possibility.  
  
Bramblethorn made his way out of the town proper and into the countryside. Sam kept to the cover of the trees and bushes, ready to duck behind them if Bramblethorn should turn and look behind him. Brambelthorn continued his confident progress, however, and Sam stuck tight to his trail.  
  
Bramblethorn strode up the path and around a bend. Sam tried not to let his haste give him away as he made for the bend at his best pace. He mustn't lose sight of the villain! Once around the bend, he could see Bramblethorn ahead. Off to the right and downhill, Sam noticed a hillside that was quite overgrown with grass and leafy bushes. On closer inspection, he could see that some residences had once been excavated into the hillside, but were now empty and nearly obscured by the growth. Bramblethorn was heading in that direction.  
  
Could that be it? Sam's heart sped up as he drew nearer to the row of abandoned smials. He weaved his way through the underbrush, getting close enough to see the old holes clearly. Bramblethorn entered one of them! At the end of the row, Sam could see that the grass near one of the smials had been trampled down slightly. It was the very one Bramblethorn had entered.  
  
~Mr. Frodo, if you're in there, please hold on!~  
  
Frodo had to be there! Sam was certain Bramblethorn would keep Frodo nearby, and he was trying not to dwell on the reasons. Bramblethorn's previous interest in Frodo had been depraved and without consideration for Frodo himself. Sam knew that Bramblethorn didn't feel love for Frodo. He just wanted to possess and dominate him. It didn't matter to that vile creature that Frodo was a person, with a beautiful soul and a loving heart.  
  
Tears sprang to Sam's eyes anew. Try as he might, he could not keep thoughts about Frodo and what might be happening to him from crowding into his mind. It was all he could do not to race down the hill and smash the door of the smial to bits, then do the same to Bramblethorn. But it wasn't that easy, and he knew it. This would have to be done right, and in a way that would not endanger Frodo further. As much as Sam wanted to knock Bramblethorn into the next age, he had to admit that it was safer for all of them if they attempted to reach Frodo when his captor was elsewhere.  
  
With that in mind, Sam turned and walked back up the path toward the town. He'd find an opportunity to teach Bramblethorn a lesson, if it was the last thing he did in his life.  
  
~*~  
  
Bramblethorn walked into Frodo's little prison with a grin on his face. The Mayor wanted to meet with him that very evening! Things were going well, perhaps even better than expected. He was in a good mood.  
  
He peered into the semi-darkness at his prisoner, huddled in the corner. Frodo was sleeping again, lying unmoving, eyes closed, breathing evenly. Frodo had withstood his every effort to break him, until Bramblethorn had threatened that miserable servant of his. Imagine, someone of Frodo's standing, willing to sacrifice all for the sake of a lowly gardener! Would wonders never cease? Bramblethorn shook his head slightly.  
  
He grabbed the chair he had been using to brace the door shut and sat down, stretching his legs out and lighting his pipe. He smoked in silence for a while, brooding. A sound from the corner broke his reverie. Frodo was waking up.  
  
Bramblethorn watched as Frodo stirred, then pushed himself up to a sitting position using his hands for balance. Several darkening bruises marred his pale skin, a visible testimony to his ordeal. He looked tired and drawn, the strain of his captivity beginning to show. He looked vulnerable, Bramblethorn thought to himself.  
  
"Have a good nap, Frodo?" Bramblethorn said, regarding his captive from across the room. No answer. Ahh, how Frodo must hate him! That mattered little, really. He wasn't seeking Frodo's adoration at this point. Whether the young hobbit cared for him or not was irrelevant. He rose from the chair and laid his pipe on the seat.  
  
"I cannot thank you enough for your assistance," he said as he walked across the room to stand over the bound hobbit. "I'll be meeting with the Mayor this evening." He knelt down in front of Frodo. "You've brought me back, Frodo, and I won't forget you."  
  
"I wish you would," Frodo said simply. He was well beyond wasting pleasantries of any kind on this creature.  
  
"Oh, no. I'll remember you, and I'll remember your beloved gardener," Bramblethorn purred. "I still owe him for that day in the woods, you know."  
  
Frodo's eyes were suddenly lit with blue fire. "You said you would leave him alone!" he shouted.  
  
"I promised you nothing of the kind," Bramblethorn replied, gesturing pedantically. "I said I would have at him if you didn't sign the document. I made no further statements about what I would do if you did sign."  
  
"NO! Keep your filthy hands off him! Damn you!" Frodo lashed out furiously.  
  
Bramblethorn moved closer and reached out toward Frodo. "Oh, Frodo. You're even more beautiful when you're angry," he said in a lascivious tone.  
  
Frodo snapped. He swung his bound hands outward, catching Bramblethorn squarely in the bridge of his nose, causing him to pull back sharply.  
  
Recovering, Bramlethorn turned to Frodo in fury. "Like to play rough, do you?" he hissed and bent down to grab Frodo's forearms, shaking him violently and slamming him back against the floor. Frodo brought his legs up and planted a two-footed kick into Bramlethorn's chest with all his might, causing him to tumble backward.  
  
The kick had reminded Frodo of his sprained ankle with a sharp pain, but he was too infuriated to care. Breathing heavily, he regarded Bramblethorn with undisguised hatred.  
  
"You shall pay dearly for that, Frodo, I promise you," Bramblethorn growled as he regained his feet. He moved with lightning speed to grab Frodo again and lifted him from the floor. Bramblethorn threw him against the wall and slammed a fist into his midsection.  
  
As Frodo doubled over, gasping, Bramblethorn moved behind him. He wrapped both of his arms around Frodo's upper body in a bear hug.  
  
Having recovered his breath slightly, Frodo squirmed in Bramblethorn's embrace. "You must leave him be! He only sought to protect me," Frodo cried desperately.  
  
"To protect you?" Bramblethorn said, laughing evilly. "He didn't do a very good job, did he, Frodo?" Bramblethorn tightened his embrace and Frodo fought for air. "He failed to prevent you from coming into my care, did he not?"  
  
Frodo wished miserably for a way to block out the sound of the words now being whispered into his ear. "He failed you, Frodo. He could not prevent me from bringing you here. He hasn't prevented you from being bound, bruised and weakened by hunger and thirst." The already menacing, sarcastic tone became even more so. "And he will not prevent me from taking all you have to give, whether you give it freely or I force it from you with all my strength."  
  
Frodo fought back tears at those awful words. Sam had not failed him, nor would he! It wasn't Sam's fault this had happened, nor was it his fault that he had no way of knowing where Frodo was now. It was just a cruel trick of fate, and if anything, Frodo blamed himself. He should have realized what a dangerous enemy he had in Bramblethorn.  
  
"You're wrong!" Frodo's voice came out a ragged whisper. "He's not to blame, I am! It's my fault for not realizing the depths of your wickedness. You're vile and hateful! You - "  
  
"I'm all you have now, Frodo." Bramblethorn cut him off. "It's just me and you, and whatever I want, when and where I choose." He was whispering again. "What I want is you. How about now, Frodo? How about here, hmm? What do you say?" Bramblethorn punctuated the sentence with a squeeze.  
  
Frodo struggled harder, fear beginning to overcome him. The more he struggled, the more Bramblethorn seemed to enjoy it.  
  
"I had planned to save you for a while yet," he whispered, lightly kissing Frodo's earlobe. "I had thought to complete my victory celebration with you in my arms, once the Mayor has revoked my banishment." Bramblethorn slowly kissed Frodo's neck, his lips hovering to feel the quickening pulse of his terrified captive. "But I can't wait, Frodo. I think I must have you now."  
  
Frodo's remaining composure was shattered, and his voice broke as he screamed. "Get your hands off me!" he gasped. "Leave me alone!"  
  
When Frodo had made similar pleas before, Bramblethorn had laughed at him and released him, taking pleasure in causing Frodo to cower at his touch. But not this time. He was no longer satisfied with the mere threat and its result. He wrestled Frodo to the floor and pinned him there. A horrible grin crawled across his face as his hands began to travel, invading and groping farther than ever before.  
  
Frodo thought he was going to faint from sheer terror. He didn't recognize his own voice as he cried out in anger, shame and horror. One of those hated hands clamped tightly over his mouth while the other fumbled with the few remaining buttons of his torn shirt.  
  
"Save your voice, Frodo, for I shall have you crying out long into the night," Bramblethorn promised. "I'll take you right now, and then again when I return. We'll have plenty of time, beloved. Hours and hours."  
  
Frodo's eyes began to unfocus as a wave of panicked dizziness flooded through him. Bramblethorn removed his hand from Frodo's mouth in order to grab both forearms and shake him hard. "Now don't pass out, Frodo!" he admonished. "We're just getting started!"  
  
The shaking had the desired effect of bringing Frodo back to himself somewhat. He screamed again, an action taken entirely in vain, as there was no one to hear him except his attacker. Bramblethorn covered his mouth again. "I told you to be quiet, Frodo," Bramblethorn hissed. "You shall scream, but not yet."  
  
Frodo's shirt was torn open completely now, and Bramblethorn's other hand had moved to the fastenings of his breeches. Frodo was painfully aware of what was happening to him, and almost too terrified to think - almost. ~Fight him!~ his mind screamed. ~I promised to fight him! Eru, help me!~  
  
Frodo bit down hard. He tasted blood, and the hand that had covered his mouth was gone. There was a cry of pain and rage, as the weight that had borne down on him disappeared. For a brief moment, relief flooded his senses. The small effort wouldn't save him, he knew, but it bought him a few seconds to breathe deeply and gather what strength he could.  
  
A brutal slap snapped his head back and he cried out involuntarily. Dazed, he saw Bramblethorn standing over him, holding his bleeding hand and snarling like a hungry wolf. "You've drawn first blood this day, my love, but not nearly so much as I shall draw from you!" Bramblethorn sneered at Frodo and struck him again, even harder than before.  
  
"Seeing how you're still not in the mood, why don't I give you a little more time to get used to the idea?" Bramblethorn stunned Frodo with another slap, re-bound his hands behind him and gagged him again. As he pulled the cords brutally tight around Frodo's slender wrists, he continued, "I must meet the Mayor in a few hours as it is. When I return, we will finish what we have begun, without interruption. And Frodo - " Bramblethorn grabbed a handful of his captive's hair, forcing his head upward. "That gag may rob me of the joy of listening to you scream, but it will be the only thing you will be able to bite!"  
  
Clutching his injured hand, Bramblethorn strode toward the door. As he reached it, he turned. "You asked me to leave you alone, Frodo," he sneered, his voice burning in his battered prisoner's ears. "I'll leave you alone. Alone in the dark. And you are alone, my dear one. Your gardener isn't here, and he isn't coming."  
  
Bramblethorn picked up the candle, the only source of light, and walked out, pulling the chair behind him and slamming the door with all his strength. The rusted hinges bent slightly from the force and the door wedged shut as if locked. He propped the chair under the doorknob again for good measure.  
  
Now surrounded by complete darkness, Frodo heard the echoes of Bramblethorn's words in his head. ~Your gardener isn't here, and he isn't coming.~  
  
~I'm sorry, Sam.~ Frodo thought. ~I'm sorry I'll never be able to tell you how much you mean to me. I hope you know. I hope you've seen it in my eyes when they've held yours briefly, across the table at tea or in the garden. I hope you've heard it in my voice when I say your name. My Sam, voronwer, aratoamin, mellonamin.~  
  
As the darkness closed in around him, Frodo gave in to the shadows, losing consciousness. The last thought that passed through his tortured mind was a memory of light, of love, of hope. Those things would be evermore just memories now, he thought as the shadows claimed him.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam stalked into the inn, searching for Merry and Pippin. They were waiting for him in the common room, their nervous looks changing to relieved smiles when they saw him.  
  
"Sam, what happened? What did you find?" Merry asked eagerly.  
  
"I followed him right to his lair. The filthy stinker had no idea," Sam replied, scowling.  
  
"Could you see Frodo?" Pippin asked, searching Sam's face.  
  
"No, Mr. Pippin, I couldn't see him, but I'd bet the lot that he's there. That vicious beast wouldn't be likely to let him out of his sight," Sam said hotly. Sam described the location of the abandoned smial and the area around it. Sam had taken note of several areas with dense undergrowth that afforded a good view of the smial. They would leave early and lie in wait until Bramblethorn had left.  
  
"Things are ready here," Merry said calmly. "The Mayor is scheduled to meet with Bramblethorn this evening. When the meeting is over, Bramblethorn will be detained here." Merry tried to sound reassuring. "We'll get Frodo out, Sam."  
  
"Let's hope you're right, Mr. Merry." Sam's tone was grave, but his voice was steady.  
  
The rest of the day was spent getting the rescue party together. Merry and Pippin would act as lookouts while Sam took care of getting Frodo away from Bramblethorn. They rested as they were able, but excitement and apprehension kept them on edge. For the time being, they stayed in their room. Conversation was minimal, as each was absorbed in his own thoughts.  
  
Pippin stared out the window at the street below, idly watching the residents of Bywater come and go. The fear he felt regarding Frodo was completely at odds with everything else around him. The weather was fine, and the folk of Bywater laughed and waved to each other in friendly fashion. Everything seemed normal around him, but he felt as if he were standing in a cold spot where the sun's cheerful rays couldn't reach.  
  
The Shire itself seemed the same pleasant place as always. It didn't seem right, somehow. How could the sun shine so brightly and the townsfolk laugh without care when something so terrible had happened? There should be some indication of wrongness, some chill in the air or darkening of the day. Pippin sighed and continued to stare out the window.  
  
Across the room, Merry sat polishing a shiny button on his weskit, not really aware of the motion of his fingers over the metal surface. They had to find Frodo. And in what condition would they find him? It was not just physical injuries Merry was concerned about, but also the effects on Frodo emotionally. Frodo had written to him of the incident two years before, and Merry had discerned as much of his cousin's state of mind from what he didn't write as from what was clearly on the page.  
  
Frodo had told him the most basic details of the story, but had plainly been holding back when it came to his feelings about what had happened. The letter had been somehow more impersonal than usual, mainly facts about the occurrence but no mention of how Frodo was truly feeling about it. 'I am unhurt, thanks largely to Sam's quick action,' Frodo had written. 'Bramblethorn is to be removed from the Shire, by order of the Mayor.' Nothing more had he written about himself, but had changed the subject in the paragraph that had followed.  
  
Frodo would need Sam now more than ever, Merry reasoned. He prayed that Sam would be able to coax Frodo to talk about his feelings. It was difficult to bear the thought of Frodo's light heart and loving spirit being locked away behind a wall of fear and apprehension.  
  
~Assuming, of course, that we find Frodo and that he's all right.~ Merry pushed the dark thoughts away, rubbing harder at a dull spot on the button as he did.  
  
Sam had intended to have a smoke and hopefully relax for a short time, but he had not lit his pipe. He had pulled it from his pocket and was still sitting and holding it in his hands several minutes later. He thought about sitting on the bench in the garden at Bag End with Frodo, having a smoke and conversation on a summer evening. That was what should be, not - not this. Frodo should be safe, at home. He should be where nothing could harm him.  
  
It was what he deserved, Sam thought sadly. Mr. Frodo deserved to be surrounded by love, light and laughter, for those were the things he lent to the space around him. He was kind and gentle and deserved the very same in return. He did not deserve to be surrounded by darkness, fear and pain. He didn't deserve Bramblethorn!  
  
~Mr. Frodo, just hold on. Hold on for me, please!~ Sam silently pleaded into the emptiness. ~I can't lose you. Not now, not this way.~ He vowed to free Frodo from Bramblethorn's clutches or give his last breath trying.  
  
~*~  
  
~Frodo's Elvish translated~  
  
"Loyal one, my champion, my friend."  
  
Source - www.grey-company.org  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	12. Loyal Champions and Friends

TTTurtle - A story can go through some strange evolutions. I was planning 13 chapters, but I now find that there is more here to deal with. Right now, it's looking like 14 because I have to deal with Bramblethorn's punishment, and that will likely be a chapter in itself. Will the rescue be straight - forward or will we see something unexpected? Here's where we answer that question.  
  
Endymion - Sam is showing remarkable self-control, isn't he? The risks to himself and to Frodo are just too great if he doesn't follow the plan. You'd like a crack at Bramblethorn? You're not alone there, I'm sure. That was pretty mean of him to continue threatening Sam even after Frodo cooperated! Unforeseen complications? Maybe.  
  
Aratlithiel - Yes, Sam is going into the rescue hale and hearty and unhurt. Frodo has had a rough time, hasn't he? You're right, though. There will be plenty of TLC coming his way later on.  
  
ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - No one messes with Gamgee rage! Yeah, remind me not to tick Sam off. Ever! Just a little bit slashy with Frodo and Sam, but not over the top, agreed. I like to leave a little to the imagination, so to speak. Glad you're finding it enjoyable!  
  
Camellia Gamgee-Took - Yes, Frodo is at the point where his hope is running a little low. Just one of those moments, though. He'll bounce back. There will be happy hobbit hugging in the future, I promise!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Chapter 11 was a bit tough for Frodo, but you're right. It could have been worse. Challenge - describe Bramblethorn in 10 words or less - "Pompous, orc - sucking, horse - faced, balrog!" Awesome.  
  
QTPie - 2488 - Welcome back! Now that you've had time to get up to date, here's the next part. Another reader weighing in with thumbs up for Frodo's determined attitude. I think this is a side of Frodo that more of us want to see, and often! Hoping nothing happens to Sam? More news on that subject to follow.  
  
Misstook1420 - The last chapter caused much worry for Frodo indeed. Will Bramblethorn intercept Frodo and Sam? Now is the time to find out.  
  
~*~  
Chapter 12 - Loyal Champions and Friends  
  
Everyone was in position. Merry had taken up a lookout post in the overgrown bushes nearest the road. From there he could see the Smial at his right, or look a fair distance down the road to his left. He would be the first to spot anything amiss from that vantage point.  
  
Pippin's hiding place was nearer the smial in a thicket of trees and bushes. He could see the bushes where Merry was hidden to his left and the smial to his right. It was a great advantage to them that there seemed to be a lot of greenery in the area. If the trees and bushes had been sparser, their task would be more difficult to manage.  
  
Both made sure they were concealed from view from both the road and the smial. It took some doing, and meant assuming a very uncomfortable position squarely in the middle of the tangle of underbrush.  
  
Sam waited among the trees across the road from them. As soon as Bramblethorn left and was safely down the path, he would be through that door in a flash. He prayed that Frodo was there. If Bramblethorn had been keeping him elsewhere, it would be a bitter disappointment.  
  
They waited for Bramblethorn to emerge, and eventually he did. Sam was sickened by his enemy's swagger and self-satisfied look. He'd wipe that smirk off that vile hobbit's face!  
  
Bramblethorn walked away down the path and disappeared around the bend. Merry's head popped up from the tangle of leafy bushes and he signaled to Sam. Looking down the road in the direction Bramblethorn had gone, Sam crossed the road and approached the overgrown door of the smial.  
  
Fortunately the locks were long since broken and rusted, and the door opened easily. Sam gazed around the musty parlor cautiously. What a creepy place! There was always something that felt strange about a place that had been left behind by its occupants, and the rather eerie aura was enhanced by the tendrils of the roots dangling above him. They reminded him of snakes.  
  
Sam saw no sign of Frodo. He prepared to venture deeper into the darkness ahead, grabbing a candle from a tabletop and lighting it. He held it cautiously before him as he proceeded silently down the darkened corridor.  
  
The abandoned residence was much smaller than Bag End, he noted. Frodo, if he was indeed there, had to be in one of the rooms down the corridor. He stopped to listen but he heard no sound except the pounding of his own heart.  
  
One step forward. Two, three. His steps quickened as the glow of the candle revealed a closed door with a wooden chair propped under the knob. With his heart nearly bursting, Sam grabbed the chair and hurled it away. Frodo was in there! He had to be!  
  
The door didn't seem to have a lock, but refused to budge as he pulled on it. The hinges were rusted and bent so the door hung off - center. It was wedged tightly shut, and even by applying all of his strength, Sam couldn't make it budge. He rammed his shoulder against it in frustration, and was slightly taken aback when he heard what he thought was the sound of wood cracking.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo hovered between dreams and waking. He had long since lost track of time. The complete darkness of his prison closed in around him and left him with no idea whether it was day or night. During his moments of alertness, he sometimes thought he heard something and his heart would begin to race. Bramblethorn would be coming back, and there would be no escaping him.  
  
For the moment, he was asleep and dreaming about home, about the garden in the sunshine. He dreamed Sam was there, not working for the moment, but just talking with him. The wind began to pick up and a storm cloud appeared in the sky. He heard a loud crack of thunder, but saw no flash of lightning. Lightning was supposed to come first, then thunder afterward. Dreams made such little sense, sometimes. He moaned and stirred slightly, restless as the visions passed before his mind's eye.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam inspected the wooden door more closely. The wood was old and dry, and had been damaged by boring worms and insects. There was indeed a small crack in it now, and Sam felt a surge of hope. He backed away from the door as far as the corridor walls would allow, set his shoulder in position and charged into it. The door gave way with a loud, splintering crack and he tumbled through its shattered remains.  
  
Sam got to his feet and stepped back into the hallway to retrieve his candle. He turned back and looked into the shadows of the little room. Hearing a soft sound, he raised the candle higher to cast its light into the corners of the room. A figure lying on the floor, listless and pale, bound hand and foot. His breath caught in his throat and he moved forward almost mechanically.  
  
A plethora of emotions assailed Sam as he rushed to Frodo's side. He felt rage at the horrid Bramblethorn for his cruel treatment of Frodo, fear for his beloved master, and crushing guilt. He was to blame! If he had been more vigilant, Bramblethorn would have had no opportunity to spirit Frodo away and torment him so.  
  
~Did that monster - did he hurt him?~ Sam wondered fearfully. Was he too late to save Mr. Frodo from the unspeakable things Bramblethorn had wanted to do to him? Sam was horrified at the torn and disheveled appearance of Frodo's clothing, and he suspected the worst.  
  
He knelt at Frodo's side, tears falling like rain as he cradled his master's frail form in his arms and gently removed the gag from Frodo's mouth.  
  
~*~  
  
Rain. He was in the garden, and it was raining. A drop ran down from his forehead, tracing a line along his nose to his lips. But this rain wasn't right. Rain wasn't supposed to taste salty.  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the presence of the candlelight. It seemed so bright after the total darkness that it made his eyes sting. Someone was holding him, holding him and weeping gently. The touch was familiar, soothing rather than invasive and harsh.  
  
His own tears began to fall as his vision cleared and Sam's grief-stricken face looked into his own.  
  
~*~  
  
Merry watched the road pensively. It seemed hours since Sam had entered the abandoned smial, but it had really been only minutes. He caught sight of something moving out the corner of his eye.  
  
His eyes widened in shock and horror as he saw Bramblethorn walking back up the path again! Eru, no! Why was he coming back already? He must have forgotten something and was returning unexpectedly. Sam was still in there!  
  
Frantically, Merry waved to Pippin. He pointed at the road and mouthed, "He's coming!" Pippin's eyes widened. He nodded at Merry and burst from the bushes, racing to the door of the smial at top speed. He yanked the door open and shouted a warning into the darkness.  
  
"Sam! He's back! He's coming up the road!" That panicky call was all he had time for, and he ran for cover again, hoping Sam could find a suitable weapon and wield it effectively until he and Merry could join in the fray that was sure to begin.  
  
~*~  
  
"Oh, Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried miserably as he held Frodo close. "Please be all right! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there! " Sam fought to regain his composure. This was not the time to fall apart! He had to untie Frodo and take him to safety.  
  
"S-sam?" Frodo whispered hoarsely. Frodo blinked several times to clear his vision and to make sure he wasn't seeing things. As he did his eyes widened and a relieved, disbelieving sob burst from his throat. "How did you find - "  
  
"No time now, Mr. Frodo, Sam said urgently. "But I'm here. I'm taking you out of this foul place!" Sam worked frantically at Frodo's bonds in the flickering candlelight. The knots were tight. Blast it all! He needed something sharp to sever the rope. The kitchen! Perhaps the former occupants of the place had left some utensils behind. He gently laid Frodo back against the floor and rose to his feet. "Hold on Mr. Frodo! I'm coming right back!"  
  
He stepped out of the room into the corridor and found the kitchen. He began rummaging hastily through it for a knife he could use to sever Frodo's bonds. Nothing! He dug frantically through the kitchen looking for anything that looked like it might hold utensils. That was when he heard Pippin's panicked voice call out, "He's back! He's coming up the road!"  
  
Sam's jaw set in a grim line. There was no way to get Frodo out of there except the way he came in, and that was no longer an option. Let him come, then! He'd been hoping for a chance to give Bramblethorn what he deserved, and it looked like he was going to get one.  
  
Still unable to find a knife and having no time to search further, Sam looked around instead for something readily available that he could use to defend himself and his master. Frodo's bonds would have to wait. There was another wooden chair in the kitchen, underneath the window. He grabbed it and raised it above his head, smashing it against the wall. It broke apart with a satisfying crunch.  
  
He picked up one of the legs and looked it over quickly. It looked sturdy enough, and he swung it in front of him a couple of times to test its weight. There was nowhere to hide in the kitchen, and the hallway, though darkened, offered little possibility of concealment. He rushed back into the room where Frodo lay, and flattened himself as much as possible against the wall by the door.  
  
"Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo!" he said. "I'll have that devil's head on a pike before I'll let him touch you again!"  
  
Paralyzed with fear for his gardener, Frodo stared at the doorway.  
  
~*~  
  
Bramblethorn opened the door and stepped into the parlor, berating himself for his absentmindedness. He'd forgotten his pipe! It was scarcely a critical lapse of attention, he told himself, but he'd like to have it with him. If he had to wait for the Mayor to appear for their meeting, a smoke would be a pleasant diversion to pass the time.  
  
He crossed the room and retrieved it from the table, tucking it carefully into his pocket. He turned back toward the door and put his hand on the knob - and froze. Light was coming from down the corridor. There should be no light! He had left Frodo in total darkness, to punish him for his most recent act of defiance.  
  
He turned and began walking down the corridor. His hands clenched into fists. Whoever was there was about to suffer the consequences for interfering with his plans and his prisoner. He would rend the intruder to pieces!  
  
~*~  
  
Sam held his breath. He could hear Bramblethorn's footsteps as the other hobbit approached. ~Come on, you! Just come a little closer!~ He'd thrash that evil creature, no mistake! He readied the chair leg in his hands and waited.  
  
Bramblethorn's face was a mask of rage as he stepped through the broken fragments of the door. His captive was still there, but a candle burned near him and he was no longer gagged. Frodo was staring at him fearfully.  
  
Just as Sam stepped from the shadows behind him and raised the chair leg to strike, Bramblethorn spun around and slammed into him. Knocked off - balance, Sam swung wide of his target and the chair leg missed its intended mark and connected with Bramblethorn's shoulder instead.  
  
Bramblethorn grasped Sam's wrist in a viselike grip and began to twist it, trying to make him drop the weapon. "I don't know how you found this place, servant," he ground out, "but you will wish you hadn't!"  
  
"I'll finish you this time!" Sam spat back, and brought his free hand around to slam a fist into Bramblethorn's jaw. The grip on Sam's wrist was broken as Bramblethorn reeled backward.  
  
Recovering with unnatural speed, Bramblethorn aimed a retaliatory blow at Sam's face. Sam managed to duck the right hook, but met with the left that followed it. Bramblethorn could fight, Sam admitted to himself as he staggered back, brandishing the chair leg. The two circled each other in the light of the flickering candle.  
  
"He's got a strong constitution," Bramblethorn sneered, gesturing to Frodo's bound form. "It took quite a bit of effort to break him." Frodo had passed out again, terror and shock overwhelming him in his weakened condition.  
  
Sam snarled and swung at the monstrous creature before him. Bramblethorn ducked the swing and continued their deadly dance, eyes locked with Sam's as he taunted him. Sam noticed a bandage on one of Bramblethorn's hands. He hoped Frodo had been responsible for it.  
  
"I haven't fully enjoyed his companionship yet, if you were wondering," he said nastily. "But rest assured, when I'm finished with you, I shall. I shall take him right here, even as you are dying before his lovely blue eyes."  
  
It was too much for Sam to bear. "You'll not touch him again!" He shouted in fury. "Never!" He swung the chair leg again, aiming directly at Bramblethorn's head. As his enemy moved to dodge the blow, Sam changed the direction of his swing slightly. His blow lost some of its potency due to the change in angle, but it connected and Bramblethorn staggered.  
  
As Sam charged him, Bramblethorn straightened somewhat and managed to kick him in the midsection, knocking the wind out of him. Taking advantage of Sam's momentary distress, he then tackled the gardener, bringing him down.  
  
Lying on his back and gasping, Sam brought the chair leg up for another swing. Bramblethorn grabbed it with both hands and began to press it downwards toward Sam's throat. Sam's grip held and he pushed back as the two grappled, locked in hatred and bent on each other's destruction.  
  
"Did you know he cried out your name in his dreams, gardener?" Bramblethorn hissed. "I shall make him cry out, but not to you! His screams will echo from these walls until his voice fails him entirely!"  
  
A burst of strength born of pure rage flared within him, and Sam twisted hard to the left, rolling both combatants across the floor. Sam landed on top this time and slammed Bramblethorn back against the floor.  
  
In the split second before Sam could lock his grip on the villain, Bramblethorn kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards. Frodo's captor regained his feet and stood with his back to the broken door. He drew back his foot and kicked Sam hard in the ribs. He drew back his leg for another kick as Sam struggled to rise again. Behind Bramblethorn, a shadow fell across the doorway.  
  
Bramblethorn turned - and caught a face full of Merry's fist. "Greetings from Buckland, Bramblethorn!" Merry called out, rubbing his hand. A touch of pain, somehow satisfying, flared in his knuckles.  
  
Bramblethorn was momentarily stunned by the blow. He wasn't prepared for Pippin bursting in after Merry and giving him similar treatment. "And regards from Tuckborough as well!" Pippin sang out, contributing gladly to the brawl.  
  
Sam, meanwhile, had managed to right himself again, despite the searing pain in his ribs. Bramblethorn stood facing the doorway and his two new opponents, as Sam stood, momentarily forgotten, behind him. Sam glanced quickly over his shoulder at Frodo's motionless form in the corner. His eyes blazed and he stepped forward, grabbing the stunned Bramblethorn and spinning him around. He drew back and plowed his fist into Bramblethorn's temple as hard as he could. "That's for Mr. Frodo!"  
  
Bramblethorn crumpled to the floor and lay motionless. Sam stood, breathing hard, one hand holding his side where Bramblethorn had kicked him. "Mr. Merry! Mr. Pippin!" Sam gasped. "It's right good to have your help, and that's a fact."  
  
Merry clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder. "You can count on us, Sam," he said, smiling grimly. "Frodo!" The smile disappeared as he turned his eyes to where Frodo was lying. "Is he all right, Sam?" Merry's brow was furrowed with concern. How badly had Frodo been injured? Merry almost wished Bramblethorn would wake up so he could have another go at him.  
  
Sam was already moving toward Frodo. "He had better be all right, Mr. Merry," he replied, his voice dark with emotion.  
  
Merry saw Frodo move a little as Sam reached his side. He nodded. Frodo was in the best possible hands now. "You see to Frodo, and Pip and I will see to Bramblethorn."  
  
Merry and Pippin each grabbed one of Bramblethorn's arms and dragged the unconscious hobbit from the room. Sam ran out after them and into the kitchen to resume his search for something that would cut through the ropes binding Frodo's feet and hands. Now searching less frantically, he found a small knife with a serrated edge that should be able to saw through the fibers of the rope.  
  
He knelt by Frodo's side and freed his master's hands as gently as possible, being careful not to hurt him. Frodo's wrists were red and inflamed from the chafing of his bonds, and it tore at Sam's heart to see them. He then sawed through the rope at Frodo's ankles.  
  
Dropping the knife unceremoniously upon the floor, Sam clutched Frodo to him in a tight embrace. His tears began to fall again as he spoke. "Mr. Frodo, I couldn't let him -" his voice caught and he choked back a sob. "Those things he was sayin', about what he was going to do to you - I should have killed him!"  
  
"Sam - " Frodo reached up to touch Sam's tear-stained face softly. Sam noticed small blood stains on Frodo's shirt and caught his breath.  
  
Frodo spoke haltingly as Sam touched the stained fabric with trembling fingers. "Not mine," Frodo breathed.  
  
"His hand?" Sam whispered, reaching for Frodo's hand as he spoke.  
  
Frodo nodded slightly. "I - I bit him," he explained as he tried to sit up.  
  
Sam wore a look of wonder as he looked at Frodo. His master had been bound and beaten, brutally mistreated for days at the hands of a horrible enemy, and had still found the strength to fight back to the very last.  
  
"You fought him hard, didn't you, Mr. Frodo?" Sam said quietly, not really expecting an answer. "You're the bravest hobbit in the Shire, no mistake."  
  
Frodo didn't feel brave. He felt weary and sore, in both body and spirit. "It was so - so dark," he whispered. "He left me in the dark, Sam. To punish me for fighting him - "  
  
"Ssshhh," Sam soothed. "It won't be dark anymore, Mr. Frodo." Sam collected himself and concentrated on Frodo. He would be all right. He had to be!  
  
"You're a miracle, Sam," Frodo said softly. "Every time I need you, as if by magic, you appear." He smiled slightly and leaned into Sam's embrace, finally feeling safe, feeling loved.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	13. Discussions and Decisions

~*~ If this has posted twice, please forgive me! The first post gave every indication of having been eaten by a troll on its way to its destination.~*~  
ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - A Took and a Brandybuck can be quite useful sometimes! Sam doesn't make a habit of brawling, but he's willing to try for his Frodo! Ahh, together again! Shall we see what to do with Bramblethorn?  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Glad you enjoyed the fight and dream scenes. I also feel a certain sadness that this story is ending, but it will still be there if you want to read it again! Let's see how our heroes are doing now.  
  
Aratlithiel - Another cheer for Merry and Pippin! That's not the end. We still have to punish that nasty villain, don't we?  
  
Endymion - We had a few minor complications arise during that rescue, didn't we? Gotta have at least one or two. It really didn't take Merry and Pippin too long to get inside and help Sam. What takes minutes to describe takes seconds to happen. In this case, just long enough for Sam and Bramblethorn to say what they wanted to each other.  
  
Trilliah - Returning from the land of final exams! Lots has happened since you were able to join us last, but it looks like you're all caught up now. Bramblethorn is indeed an abomination! And we have to punish him, don't we? And Sam is sweet until you threaten someone he loves. Then, look out!  
  
Missstook1420 - Merry's got attitude, yes? "Greetings from Buckland!"  
  
QTPie - 2488 - Frodo's ok. And Sam deserved the last swing at Bramblethorn, didn't he?  
  
Aelfgifu - Yes, Sam was very brave! Hope your Merry/Sam fight scene meets your expectations. I'm sure we'll love it! And this isn't quite over yet. We still have to punish Bramblethorn and get Frodo back to normal life at Bag End.  
  
Author's Note - This story will end with Chapter 15, for those of you who have been reviewing each chapter as it posts, and are asking, "Is that all? Is this the end?"  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter 13 - Discussions and Decisions  
  
Merry and Pippin left Bramblethorn unconscious and tied up in one of the rooms of the smial. The Mayor and his people would deal with him. For now, all that mattered was getting Frodo to a safe place.  
  
Frodo was making his best attempt to stand, supported on either side by Merry and Sam. He leaned heavily on them, unable to go far by himself after days of confinement and hunger. The injury to his ankle didn't trouble him much, but the cumulative effects of his treatment at Bramblethorn's hands had left him with little strength.  
  
"I'll go tell Mayor Whitfoot what's happened," Pippin volunteered. "I'll bring back one of the ponies for Frodo to ride back to the inn."  
  
"Good idea, Pip," Merry replied with a glance at Frodo. I don't think he can walk all the way back to town."  
  
Frodo looked at Pippin in confusion. "Mayor Whitfoot?" He asked. "Pippin, what - "  
  
"Mr. Pippin, if you please, ask the Innkeeper to find a healer too." Sam tightened his grip on Frodo's waist. He wanted nothing left to chance. Bramblethorn claimed he hadn't yet used Frodo for his own pleasure, but what good was his word? There could be more than bruises to worry about.  
  
Frodo had given up his questioning about the Mayor. He was too exhausted to press for details. It was certain he would hear the entire tale eventually.  
  
Pippin nodded and immediately started running up the road as if Farmer Maggot's dogs were at his heels. Sam and Merry continued to help Frodo as they made what progress they could in the direction of the inn. It was slow going, with frequent stops to let Frodo rest. After putting some distance between themselves and the smial, they stopped altogether to wait for Pippin and the pony.  
  
They rested by the side of the road, waiting anxiously, Frodo lying down with his head in Sam's lap. Sam carefully brushed Frodo's hair away from his eyes and fought back his grief at his master's battered condition. The fact that Frodo's injuries had been inflicted upon him by one of his own race was deeply disturbing to Sam. Such behavior could be expected from orcs perhaps, but from hobbits? It was unheard of.  
  
Frodo groaned and opened his eyes, seeing the expression on Sam's face. "My brave Sam," he said quietly. "You mustn't blame yourself for any of this. It's not your fault, not any of it."  
  
"He's right, Sam," Merry spoke up. "In fact, it was due to your quick thinking and bravery that we were able to find and rescue Frodo."  
  
Sam looked down at his fingers, resting lightly in Frodo's hair. "Thank you, Mr. Merry. That's kind of you to say, but I can't help it," he said, his voice faltering slightly. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Things like this don't happen in the Shire," he said sadly.  
  
Merry placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, not quite sure what to say in response. Sam was right. ~And thank the Valar for that,~ Merry thought grimly.  
  
Sam enfolded his master in a gentle, but protective embrace. Frodo's eyes were closed as he rested, conserving his strength. Sam looked at Frodo's bruised face, reading the signature of Bramblethorn's brutality. One eye was fairly well blackened and still swollen. One cheek was marred by partially healed scratches and more dark discoloration. How had Frodo withstood such treatment?  
  
Sam could feel Frodo's ribs through the torn fabric of his shirt. That beast had starved him too! There had been no time for Sam to get any further information from Frodo about what Bramblethorn had done to him. If Sam had his way, he would have carried Frodo from the smial. Just because Frodo could walk with assistance didn't mean he ought to be doing it, Sam thought bitterly.  
  
A short while later, Pippin appeared on the road ahead, riding Merry's pony. It was the more gentle and good-natured of the two, and less likely to cause Frodo additional discomfort. Breathing a sigh of relief, Merry stood and waved to his cousin.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam gently roused his master. "Mr. Pippin is back with the pony."  
  
Frodo opened his eyes and sat up with Sam's help. Merry and Sam helped him onto the pony's back and they started again for the inn. Merry led the pony and Sam and Pippin walked on either side, taking care not to let Frodo slip off the animal's back. They reached the inn without incident, and Frodo was promptly carried up the stairs to bed, and a local healer was waiting for him. Also waiting was a tray with hot soup and freshly baked bread.  
  
The healer sent everyone else from the room while he assessed Frodo's condition. After a short while, the door opened and he stepped into the hallway to speak with Sam. With the healer's permission, Merry and Pippin entered the room to join Frodo.  
  
Merry watched Frodo with concern. Frodo looked thinner and paler than usual as a result of his ordeal. Merry shuddered inwardly as he looked at the bruises darkening on his cousin's fair face, afraid to imagine exactly what Frodo had endured as Bramblethorn's captive. At least he was eating and seemed very much the better for it, even if it was only soup.  
  
Frodo blinked at Merry and a wan smile began to cross his face. "Remind me never to make you angry," he said quietly. "You have a fair talent for brawling, cousin." Merry summoned a smile in return.  
  
"I'd be in for it if I tried that at Brandy Hall, but I had a good excuse for it here," Merry replied evenly. "Too bad Sam finished the job so handily. I'd have liked another opportunity to teach Bramblethorn not to lay his hands on a member of my family."  
  
"I'll agree with that," Pippin said, standing at Merry's side. "No one will hurt you Frodo, not if we have aught to do with it!"  
  
Frodo laughed slightly. "Thank you both for everything," Frodo said, looking each of them in the eye. "Between Sam and the two of you, I should be very safe here. Where is Sam?"  
  
"In the hallway, talking with the healer about all the things they're not going to let you do until you've completely recovered," Merry answered, an impish gleam in his eye. "I hope you're prepared to be waited on hand and foot for a time, because Sam has that look about him."  
  
A cup of something hot and fragrant steamed on the bedside table. Pippin handed it to Frodo and encouraged him to take a sip. "The healer must have left this for you," he noted. "I imagine there's a little something in it besides tea?"  
  
Frodo gave another little smile. "A mild sedative. He wants me to rest, mostly." Frodo sipped from the steaming cup, and looked a little surprised. "The next time I'm down with something, I hope I'm in Bywater." The taste of the potion was actually something near to pleasant, as opposed to some of the noxious cures the healers at home had insisted upon pouring down his throat in the past. "I wonder if he would divulge the secret ingredients to us?"  
  
Pippin smiled at Frodo's attempt at levity. A good sign, for certain. "More?" He asked and Frodo nodded.  
  
The conversation in the room continued, and Frodo found himself cheered somewhat by his lively cousins. He was tired, though. He closed his eyes again, and his cousins sat quietly by his bedside, watching over him.  
  
In the hallway, Sam and the healer discussed Frodo's condition in low voices. "Bruises, mostly. He's dehydrated and needs some proper nourishment, and rest. Plenty of it, mind you," the healer instructed Sam. Sam nodded. He would see to that.  
  
"Begging your pardon Sir," Sam began, "How long before he'll be strong enough to go home?" Sam was concerned about Frodo being away from Bag End. With what Frodo had been through, Sam felt that he needed to be home, in familiar surroundings.  
  
"Not long, I think," the healer replied. "He's responding well and looks a lot better for having a bit of food and something to drink. He can have more solid food tomorrow, if he feels so inclined." The healer considered Sam's question a moment longer, then continued. "He can leave for Hobbiton whenever he feels ready, perhaps in a day or two." That was good news, if Sam had ever heard any.  
  
Sam thanked the healer for his advice and assistance. He was about to turn and go back into the room when Mayor Whitfoot appeared on the stairs.  
  
"How is he, Sam, my lad?" The Mayor inquired with concern. "May I speak with him for a moment?" Sam opened the door and peeked in. Frodo was resting, talking quietly with Merry and Pippin, and sipping something from a cup.  
  
"He's awake, Sir. May I ask him if he's up to it?" Sam said courteously.  
  
"By all means, Samwise," the Mayor said, and waited patiently in the hallway as Sam slipped quietly through the door to the bedside. A moment later, Sam emerged with Merry and Pippin close behind.  
  
"Sir, he said he would be pleased to see you now," Sam said as he ushered the rotund Mayor through the door. Merry and Pippin greeted the Mayor politely told Sam they would be in the common room. They walked down the stairs together and disappeared among the tables, chairs and patrons. Sam ushered the Mayor into the room.  
  
"Mayor Whitfoot!" Frodo greeted the Mayor with a genuine smile. "It's a very pleasant surprise to see you here."  
  
"Quite glad to see you as well, lad, believe me," the Mayor replied as he took a chair next to the bed. "You seem to be doing better."  
  
"Much better, thank you." Frodo regarded the Mayor with a look of gratitude. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done. If you hadn't come immediately to Bywater and showed that document to Sam - "  
  
"Make no mention of it, Master Baggins. I was pleased to do it. I remember that awful mess two years ago, and I was suspicious immediately when that document arrived with your signature. That was a bit of clever work, adding that Elvish script to it," he said, impressed with Frodo's quick thinking. "A good thing you've been teaching Master Samwise here the basics of the language, for the rest of us were quite unable to decipher it."  
  
Sam colored at the Mayor's statement, slightly embarrassed by the praise. His Gaffer had been doubtful regarding the merits of Sam spending valuable time learning Elvish, but it was likely he would feel differently after this.  
  
The conversation turned inevitably to Bramblethorn. "What's to be done with that wicked creature now?" Sam questioned. "He can't be allowed back in the Shire, can he Mr. Mayor?"  
  
"Most certainly not, Samwise," the Mayor replied gravely. "He has caused a great deal of misery and is a proven danger to the good people of the Shire."  
  
Sam nodded. "Mr. Frodo, I'll leave you two to talk together." He was reluctant to leave Frodo's side, but this was a private conversation and it wasn't his place to intrude. Frodo would share the details with him later, if he felt inclined to. "I'll be with Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin if you need me," he said as he stepped out the door, closing it softly behind him.  
  
The Mayor shifted uncomfortably in the chair by the bedside. "Some of the good citizens here were kind enough to assist with taking Bramblethorn into custody." The moment Pippin had burst through the doors of the inn, the Mayor had listened to his account of the events at the smial and had begun getting a team together to retrieve Bramblethorn. They had left just as Sam, Merry and Pippin arrived with Frodo.  
  
Mayor Whitfoot regarded Frodo kindly, but with a reluctant air as he spoke again. "Frodo, I know you've been through quite an ordeal. I don't want to ask anything of you that may be difficult for you."  
  
Frodo nodded slightly. He knew this conversation would eventually come about. There would be things he would have to face, and statements to be made.  
  
"Having been on the receiving end of his transgressions, you will have a say in what's to be done with the scoundrel, Frodo. I must admit, I'm deeply troubled." The Mayor took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. "Bramblethorn has been exiled once already, and has only returned to do even greater damage than before. Yet, there is not much else to be done with him. We simply have no provision for handling such miscreants as Bramblethorn. He is unique, I'm afraid."  
  
Frodo smiled slightly at hearing Bramblethorn described as 'unique'. "Yes, I suppose he is at that, and thankfully so!" The Mayor smiled at Frodo's statement. "Mr. Mayor, I've been thinking about what I feel should be done, and I've drawn the same conclusions you have." Frodo sat up a little straighter against the pile of pillows at his back.  
  
"We've no place to keep such a person separated from others in the Shire." He looked down at his hands briefly, then looked into the Mayor's eyes. "Besides which, having been a prisoner myself, I cannot in good conscience condemn another to a similar fate, even if he would be treated far more kindly than I have been."  
  
The Mayor listened intently to Frodo's words. What a thoroughly remarkable young hobbit Master Baggins was! He had suffered unspeakably at the hands of that villain, and still had yet to speak a vengeful word.  
  
The Mayor cleared his throat and spoke. "If Bramblethorn is sent back into exile, we must prepare for the possibility that he will attempt more treachery in the future." He stood and walked to the window, looking out at the sunny day and thinking. "Rumors of unrest outside the Shire have been growing of late. The number of Bounders is to be increased as it is. That in itself will be helpful, but they must also be made aware of Bramblethorn's identity. They must be able to recognize him on sight should he return."  
  
"Increasing the watch is a good idea," Frodo answered. "But the rest of the Shirefolk need to know Bramblethorn's identity if they are to be able to report having seen him."  
  
"Wisely spoken, Frodo." The Mayor resumed his seat. "There will, of course, need to be statements given by those involved. I shall have to ask for your account of what happened, and the same from your cousins and Master Samwise."  
  
Frodo paled and gave the Mayor a look of dismay. "You don't mean - " he swallowed and began again. "You're not saying that I shall have to speak about this before an assembly?"  
  
The Mayor's expression changed to one of kindness and concern. "No, no, Frodo! On the contrary. That shall not be asked of you, after all you have endured. What will be asked is that you submit your statement in written form for the Records, nothing more." The Mayor could see from Frodo's appearance that he had suffered significant physical abuse at the hands of his captor. What then, had his mind been subjected to?  
  
Frodo was deeply relieved to hear the Mayor's words. He didn't think he could bear to relive his awful experience by telling it to a crowd of others, many of them complete strangers.  
  
"And what of Bramblethorn?" Frodo asked cautiously, the vile name nearly sticking in his throat. "How will he be punished?"  
  
"He will be expelled from the Shire, of course," the Mayor countered, "but not before the citizens have had a good look at him, to know him for creature that he is. He will spend one day on public display in the town square of each major settlement in the Shire, ending with Hobbiton. He will be bound, and will receive short rations of food and water. At the end of his public humiliation, he will be marched to the borders and sent from the Shire once again." The Mayor gave Frodo a slight smile. "You needn't worry about him returning to torment you again. He would be recognized almost instantly in any populated place in the Shire, should he take it into his head to make any further attempt."  
  
Frodo nodded. The Mayor had obviously given plenty of thought to the plan. "It seems wise that he be seen by as many of the Shirefolk as possible, but what of the treatment he will receive during his punishment?" Frodo was uncomfortable with what the Mayor had told him. "Are we to answer cruelty with more of the same?"  
  
"Frodo, you are an astonishing hobbit to say the least," the Mayor said, shaking his head. "There is no nice term for what Bramblethorn did to you. You were tortured, as if in the hands of orcs! Bramblethorn must be made to feel at least a portion of the discomfort he has caused you."  
  
"I suppose I can understand your reasoning, Mr. Mayor. But you are certain he will not suffer needlessly?" Frodo continued as the Mayor nodded. "It isn't that I'm not angered by what he did to me," Frodo explained. "But I can tell you there has been enough pain and misery as it is. I have no wish to have any more caused in my name."  
  
"Nor do I, my lad. Nor do I." The Mayor laid a reassuring hand on Frodo's shoulder and smiled at him again. "I should leave you to your rest now," he said as he rose from the chair. "Our good healer has provided you with a little something in that brew to help you sleep, and it looks as if it's making itself useful."  
  
"I do feel a bit - " Frodo's words were overtaken by a prodigious yawn, and he colored with embarrassment for having allowed himself to gape like a sleepy child in the Mayor's presence. "Pardon me. I am rather sleepy, now that you mention it."  
  
"I'll send that young Gamgee back to you now. I doubt he could be kept away much longer," Mayor Whitfoot said with a chuckle as he walked to the door. "I hope to speak with you again before your return to Hobbiton, Frodo. Sleep well!"  
  
Frodo leaned back gratefully against the pillows and closed his eyes. He was relieved beyond expression that he would not be expected to appear in public to air his grievance regarding Bramblethorn. He pushed all thoughts of the matter away for the time being and welcomed the healer's gift of a deep, strength - renewing sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam opened the door silently and took up his watch at Frodo's side. Frodo was asleep, and thankfully no distressing dreams seemed to be troubling him for the moment. He had a feeling he knew what Frodo and the Mayor had been discussing for the last little while. Something would have to be done with Bramblethorn. He would have to be punished for what he had done to Frodo. Sam could think of a number of things he thought would be fitting retributions for that nasty creature's doings, but he doubted that the Mayor would allow them.  
  
He watched over Frodo as he slept, wishing he could make the bruises and aches disappear with a gentle touch. Only time could do that, he reflected a little sadly. Still - He reached out and carefully swept tousled curls from Frodo's forehead with a light touch. He then very lightly traced over the bruised and scratched skin of Frodo's cheek. "If love can heal you, Mr. Frodo, I give you mine," he whispered. "Every last bit of it, too."  
  
~*~ To be continued ~*~ 


	14. Home

Map - I did it again. I posted 13 before I got your feedback for chapter 12. So, to answer a little late, we are close to wrapping up the tale, I'm sad to say. It's been so much fun posting it and hearing from everyone. Thank you for your praise, it means a lot. I'd thought about an A/U in the future set in Bree. You never know! Meanwhile, when this is over, I'll be waiting for another visit from the plotbunny! If I don't post anything new for a while, don't give up on me. I enjoy this too much not to keep it up!  
  
Aratlithiel - Frodo is a peace - lovin' hobbit, isn't he? I also picture Merry as having at least some experience getting into the odd scrap. Brandy Hall is a big place and I'm just betting the odd ruckus erupts among the young lads now and then. A little Frodo angst and recovery coming your way!  
  
Misstook1420 - I don't think Sam knows how precious he is, but Frodo does!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - When it comes to giving comfort, everyone could take a lesson from Sam. He's a natural at it!  
  
ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - Thanks for your congrats on this story reaching 100 reviews! I'm pleased beyond words that it has! Sam's loyalty is just the thing Frodo needs right now. And he's got it! Bramblethorn is to be justly punished, and soon! Now, to get Frodo back where he belongs.  
  
Endymion - Siding with Sam - Off with Bramblethorn's head! Bramblethorn is lucky the Mayor didn't just give him to Sam!  
  
TTTurtle - I hope to have more stories pop into my head soon. In fact, I'm rather nervous that the plotbunny will forget me after this! I hope not, since this has been fun for me too. You could be right. If Bramblethorn lives on, there could be more mischief ahead someday. We'll have to leave the Shire if we want to find him again, though.  
  
~*~  
Chapter 14 - Home  
  
Frodo woke to the warmth of sunlight on his face. As he blinked at the brightness of it, his first thought of the morning was how wonderful it felt. Light! Cheerful beams slanting into the room through the curtains, a slight breeze stirring and fresh air filling the room. It was so good to wake up in such pleasant surroundings, to be unbound and able to move at will. He stretched experimentally and winced. He was stiff and sore from his confinement. It would be a few more days yet before his muscles relaxed and stopped aching.  
  
Sam was asleep in the chair at the bedside. He hadn't moved from his place beside Frodo since the previous night. Frodo watched as Sam stirred and blinked, and then came to sudden awareness as he realized he had fallen asleep.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! I was sleeping on watch, blast me!" Sam berated himself mercilessly. "Are you all right? Is there anything - "  
  
"Sam, I'm fine," Frodo answered him. "I just woke up myself. No one expects you to go without sleep, myself least of all." Frodo began to sit up and Sam immediately jumped up and helped him settle the pillows at his back. "You should get some rest too," Frodo suggested, leaning into the pillows with a contented sigh.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, I'm not about to leave you alone nohow, not with what you've been through," Sam argued stubbornly. "It's no use tellin' me otherwise," he said in a softer tone. "Suppose you'd come awake in the night, and I was snorin' away - "  
  
"Suppose you were, Sam. You were here nonetheless, and if anything had been amiss, you would have awakened." Sam reluctantly conceded. He would indeed have awakened if the slightest sound had come from Frodo's direction in the night. The healer's medicine worked wonderfully though, and Frodo had slept quite soundly. Sam had dozed off in the early hours of the morning without need of any potions to help him.  
  
Frodo yawned and stretched again, and his thoughts wandered to his conversation with Mayor Whitfoot. "Sam, the Mayor and I had a good discussion last night, about Bramblethorn." Frodo saw Sam stiffen at the mention of the name. "He will be humiliated publicly before the folk of the Shire and driven from our borders. His face will be known as well as his deeds. With so many folk being able to recognize him, it would be impossible for him to escape notice should he attempt to return in the future."  
  
Sam nodded, but Frodo could tell his gardener wasn't completely satisfied. Sam's fierce protectiveness would demand greater satisfaction, Frodo reflected. It was enough for Frodo that he be rid of Bramblethorn.  
  
"I'd like to see a sight more done to him, if you don't mind my sayin', Mr. Frodo." Sam shook his head. "He deserves - he should - " Sam stammered. "Well I don't rightly know just what he deserves, but it should be as awful as what he did to you!"  
  
"He will be made to feel considerable discomfort, if the Mayor's plan goes forward. It need not be - " Frodo's next words were lost in a flurry of sound and motion. There came an exuberant pounding on the door and his cousins burst in, their hands full of food - laden trays. "Breakfast is served!" Pippin said brightly, placing one tray on the bedside table for Sam and placing the other one before Frodo.  
  
Frodo accepted it gladly. As Bramblethorn's captive, he had been given precious little to eat, and it showed. He was slender for a hobbit to begin with, and days without nourishment had left his ribs showing far more than was proper. He ate slowly, taking care not to give his digestive system too much of a shock all at once.  
  
"Did Mayor Whitfoot stay and talk with you for a while yesterday?" Merry asked, attempting to hide his curiosity behind small talk. "I know he certainly meant to." Frodo saw right through him, and it brought a smile to his face.  
  
"Yes, Merry. We did have a good discussion," Frodo answered. He explained the Mayor's plan in detail, and approving nods were given in answer.  
  
"That should get Bramblethorn's attention, I think," Merry said. "It should take him down a peg or two to have all of the Shire see him for what he is, and it won't hurt if he gets at least a small taste of the bitter cup you were made to drink, Frodo."  
  
"I wouldn't mind having a nice ripe tomato handy when I see him," Pippin said with a gleam in his eye.  
  
"That would be a grievous waste of a perfectly good tomato, Pip," Merry countered. With that, the somber mood of the group was broken, and they dined together gladly. Frodo was especially grateful for the company of Sam and his cousins, recalling how far from him they had seemed when he was imprisoned. They were here with him now, real and true, and he treasured them as never before.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days later, Frodo stood by the open window at the inn, enjoying the fresh air flowing past him into the room. The healer had pronounced him fit to travel, and he was eager to see Bag End again. Merry and Pippin would be going back to Buckland and Tuckborough, respectively. Their visit had definitely not gone as planned, and another attempt at a more normal one would be made in the near future.  
  
Sam walked through the door and Frodo jumped at the sound. He blushed in embarrassment as he spoke. "Sam! Forgive me, please. I suppose I'm just a little excited to be going home."  
  
"Not to worry, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied easily, lifting his pack from the floor. "Are you sure you're ready? I mean, walkin' all the way back to Hobbiton -"  
  
"I'm much better now, and the healer says I'm ready," Frodo replied, attempting to soothe Sam's apprehension. "It's not such a long way, and we've plenty of time to rest if we need to. I have no doubt that you will see me safely home, Sam."  
  
Although the bruises still showed here and there, Frodo's aches were gone and his strength restored by proper nourishment and much rest. Sam had made good Merry's words about waiting on Frodo hand and foot, leaving nothing wanting.  
  
As they met Merry and Pippin at the desk and Merry prepared to pay for their room, Mayor Whitfoot intercepted them. "Good morning, lads! He said, grinning broadly. "Master Baggins, you look very well indeed. Are you on your way home then?"  
  
"I am, Mr. Mayor," Frodo replied, nodding politely. "I can't thank you enough for all that you've done. Your assistance and personal attention to this matter - "  
  
"No need to thank me, " the Mayor held up a hand to ward off the protests that would certainly come with his next statement. "Your room has been paid for and all is in order. It has been a pleasure seeing all of you, and a great pleasure indeed to see you in good health, Frodo."  
  
"You are too kind, Mayor Whitfoot," Merry said, shaking the Mayor's hand. The group from Hobbiton waved farewell as they exited the inn and emerged into the sunshine of a beautiful morning.  
  
~*~ Later, at Bag End  
Supper was over and Sam was washing the dishes. He had stubbornly refused to allow Frodo to help, instead installing his master comfortably in Bilbo's favorite armchair with a good book and a glass of Old Winyards.  
  
The journey from Bywater had been uneventful, even pleasant. They had arrived back at Bag End to find that the Gaffer and Sam's siblings had done their best to tend the garden during Sam's absence, and all was well. Word was beginning to spread regarding Frodo's safe return, and that in a few days Bramblethorn would be facing the scorn of the people of Hobbiton.  
  
No time had been wasted in punishing the culprit. The Mayor and the Shirriffs had placed Bramblethorn in the town square of Bywater the very morning after Frodo had been freed. From there it was on to Frogmorton, and Michel Delving. Hobbiton, as the home of Bramblethorn's victim, would be the last stop before his expulsion from the Shire.  
  
Frodo wore a pensive expression as Sam walked back into the parlor and sat down on the sofa. He had been trying to read, but his thoughts kept wandering. He had caught himself looking down the hallway several times, and when Sam had gone into the kitchen to wash the dishes, he had risen from his chair and locked the door.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam began, "Is there anything you need?" He looked at Frodo with a caring expression, having detected the nervousness in his master's posture and movements.  
  
"I don't think so, Sam," Frodo said with a sigh. "It's just - I keep thinking about things. I keep hearing the things Bramblethorn said to me about - about -" he stopped, having difficulty going on.  
  
"You don't have to talk about it, Mr. Frodo. Not unless you really want to," Sam said as he looked into Frodo's eyes. He wished he could erase the rather haunted look he saw there and replace it with the dancing twinkle he'd come to know over the years.  
  
"No, Sam. I do need to talk about it, though it isn't easy." Frodo rose from the chair and paced restlessly, still holding the book in his hand. "I refused to sign the document repeatedly until one night, Sam. I was dreaming and I called for you. He - " Frodo's voice quavered. "He said he would hurt you, Sam, if I didn't do as he asked. It was more than I could bear!" Frodo clutched the book tightly, his knuckles going white with the pressure.  
  
Sam rose and put an arm around Frodo's shoulders, guiding him to the sofa.  
  
"He won't be hurtin' me or anyone else hereabouts, Mr. Frodo," Sam said soothingly. "Don't you worry 'bout your Sam."  
  
"But Sam, I was so afraid - " Frodo broke off again, trying to gather his wits and sort his words out. "I was afraid that I would never see you again." A single tear traversed a path down his cheek as he spoke. "I realized how alone I would be without you, and how much I need you with me." He turned to Sam and hugged him tightly.  
  
Sam was slightly taken aback but returned the hug gladly. "I felt the same thing, Mr. Frodo. When none of us could find you, I went searchin' through the woods again. I was so scared, and I just couldn't breathe. It felt like my heart had been torn out."  
  
Frodo leaned his head against Sam's shoulder as his tears fell. He felt sorrow for Sam's pain, as well as his own. As the thought of passing the night alone with his recent memories and the fears they evoked flitted through his mind, Frodo began to tremble as if chilled by a cold wind.  
  
Sam held him closer and rubbed his back gently. When he could trust himself to speak again, Frodo looked up at Sam and spoke one word. "Stay."  
  
"Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Stay with me, Sam. Don't leave me alone. I can't - "  
  
Sam unfolded a blanket that had been draped across the back of the sofa, and wrapped them both in it snugly. "I won't leave you, Mr. Frodo. If you're scared, I'll be right here. I won't let nothin' come to harm you, in dreams or otherwise," Sam said as he carefully drew Frodo into his arms.  
  
Eventually Frodo fell asleep. Sam remained awake for a while, just watching over him as he rested. Frodo's chest rose and fell in a slow, even rhythm and a calm expression graced his features. Sam looked at Frodo, praying silently that he would never see his beloved master's face bruised again, or hear Frodo whisper his name in that hoarse, broken voice. His embrace tightened protectively. ~You're safe, Mr.Frodo,~ he thought, and listened gratefully to Frodo's breathing and heartbeat until he too relaxed into sleep.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	15. Crime, Punishment and the Nature of Merc...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Acknowledgements - Many thanks to Frodo Baggins of Bag End who helped me to answer the question of what to do with my villain now that he has served his purpose. His insightful answer to that question provided me with this chapter, which I believe to be a satisfying end to this story. His own writings at fanfiction.net and on his website are well worth your time. Here's a link -  
  
Mae Govannen, Frodo.  
  
Thanks also to everyone who has followed and reviewed this story chapter by chapter as I posted it, never failing to encourage, provoke thought, and beg for frequent updates. Future thanks to all who take the time to read it from start to finish wherever they find it floating in cyberspace. -Mbradford May 17, 2003  
  
Also, if you feel so inclined, please check out the follow up to this story, a 3 chapter story set at Bag End called "Sound, Silence and Solace." Frodo will need Sam's support as he deals with his emotions in the wake of his ordeal. Not a long story, but a little angsty and a little sweet. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Reviewers -  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Sam is great! We should all have a Sam! I haven't planned any tomato throwing in this chapter, but who knows what will be happening as Bramblethorn is herded over the border!  
  
TTTurtle - A story where Sam's in trouble and Frodo comes to the rescue? Hmmm. Now there's an interesting prospect! I'll have to turn that over in my mind a few times and see what happens!  
  
Misstook1420 - Sam is not just your average gardener is he? A guardian angel if there ever was one!  
  
Aratlithiel - Yes, we did do some angst in the last chapter. There's a little bit here, but it's toned down. The third story in this series is mostly finished, but I will possibly be revising it some.  
  
ZoSo Gamgee - Baggins - "If Frodo weren't so busy hugging him -" Hear that Sam? There's a line forming! Sam hugs are just the thing to make everything all right. Seems everyone is sorry to see this end, myself included. It's been great fun!  
  
Aelfgifu - What does happen to Bramblethorn? See below! And yes, Trilliah's artwork is wonderful. Eventually both this story and the pics she has drawn will be on Library of Moria too.  
  
Endymion - Perhaps someday we may see Bramblethorn again. If I have an idea and he fits in, who knows? And now, Frodo is on a mission.  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter 15 - Crime, Punishment, and the Nature of Mercy  
  
It was no use. Frodo closed the book in frustration when he realized he had just read the same paragraph for the third time in succession. His thoughts turned again to the subject that had occupied them so frequently since his return to Hobbiton - Bramblethorn.  
  
In the few days that had passed, Bramblethorn had indeed been displayed before the public in the larger towns. He had been brought to Hobbiton earlier that day, and a platform had been erected in the town square. Bramblethorn had been installed there under guard with a placard nearby that read "Know your enemy, lest he come among you."  
  
It was very late at night now, and with the sunrise Bramblethorn would be taken to the border of the Shire and cast out. There was sure to be a crowd of hobbits lining the roads from Hobbiton all the way to Buckland, jeering and waving. Frodo sighed, thinking of all that had happened and of putting the matter to rest at last.  
  
But was it really being put to rest? If so, why did he feel there was something yet to be done, or something that still must be confronted? He laid the book on the table beside Bilbo's comfortable old armchair and rose to his feet. It was madness, what he was about to do, but somehow he felt he could not truly begin to heal from his experience without the effort.  
  
He walked into the kitchen and pulled a small earthenware cup and pitcher from a cabinet, and walked back through the parlor to the front door. Locking the door behind him, he ventured into the garden and to the water pump to fill the pitcher. That accomplished, he set off down the path toward the town square before he could give himself reason to reconsider his actions.  
  
The wooden platform came into view eventually, and was lit by only a small lantern. Frodo could see the shadowy figure of the Shirriff on guard, standing a few yards ahead and facing the platform, his back to the path and to Frodo.  
  
Gathering his thoughts and his courage, Frodo approached the Shirriff slowly. Upon hearing footfalls behind him, the Shirriff turned and regarded Frodo suspiciously. His suspicion turned to something close to open astonishment as he recognized the young hobbit.  
  
"Master Baggins! What brings you out here at this late hour?" he questioned, looking curiously at Frodo and the pitcher of water he was holding.  
  
Frodo took a deep breath before speaking. He had come this far, and he wasn't about to turn back now. "I must speak with him," Frodo told the Shirriff, trying to sound sure of himself.  
  
The Shirriff gave Frodo an odd look, and asked, "Are you certain? After everything - "  
  
"Yes," Frodo replied, his voice surprisingly steady. "I am. I feel somehow that I must," he said, hoping the Shirriff would grant his request.  
  
"Very well, Master Baggins, but I shall be ready at hand," the Shirriff replied and led Frodo forward to the edge of the platform.  
  
Bramblethorn was sitting down and leaning back against a sturdy wooden post. His hands were bound behind him, and he looked rather haggard. His punishment had been carried out to the letter thus far, and he had been given low rations of food and drink, and kept bound, even as he had kept Frodo.  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the unexpected sight of Frodo standing in front of him. "Well, well," he said in a tired voice. "You must find this an enjoyable thing to behold indeed. Coming by to gloat, Frodo?"  
  
Bramblethorn's voice had lost much of the sharp edge of arrogance that had cut through his words when he had taunted Frodo during his captivity. Though Frodo was sure his enemy was not in any real danger, he could see that Bramblethorn was indeed suffering noticeable discomfort.  
  
"No," Frodo answered slowly. "I do not find it enjoyable at all, and I haven't come to gloat as you've said."  
  
"Indeed?" The word was laden with sarcasm. "But why not, Frodo? Here you are, with the chance to see me in a condition similar to yours when we last spoke. Surely that is a priceless treasure to you, all things considered."  
  
"It is not my habit to treasure such things, Bramblethorn." Frodo's voice was soft, with no trace of anger or scorn.  
  
"No, Frodo? And why, do you suppose, could that be?" Bramblethorn searched Frodo's face, looking for some reason why Frodo, who must surely hate him more than he had ever hated anyone else in his entire life, should be standing before him now, calmly addressing him.  
  
Frodo sighed. "Mine is not the way of vengeance, Bramblethorn," Frodo said, returning the other's gaze steadily. "The only things such a way can lead to are misery and pain, and there have been enough of both."  
  
"All right, Frodo. So why have you come?" Bramblethorn seemed genuinely curious now. After all, he could hardly have expected something like this. It would never occur to him that his former captive would not want to cause him pain equal to that which he had suffered himself.  
  
"I have no proper answer to that question," Frodo replied. "In fact, if anyone were to find out I was here, I would have much explaining to do." The thought of the lecture he would undoubtedly receive from his protective gardener nearly brought a smile to Frodo's face. "Are you thirsty, Bramblethorn?"  
  
The façade of sarcasm cracked just a little when Frodo asked that question. Disbelief began to take its place instead. "You have brought me water to drink, when I provided you with scarcely enough to keep body and soul together?" The disbelief began to evolve into suspicion as Bramblethorn fell into his old habit of viewing others' motivations as being similar to his own.  
  
"Do you wish to see me humbled, Frodo?" Bramblethorn asked. "To see me begging you for the mercy I denied you? Is that what you want?"  
  
"I want no such thing," Frodo stated as he handed the cup and pitcher to the Shirriff and nodded, signaling him to give some to Bramblethorn. "It is not the nature of mercy to be used as a path to revenge," he answered, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Mercy exists for its own sake, Bramblethorn, not to be used for gain of any sort."  
  
Frodo's abductor did not refuse the cup the Shirriff held to his lips. He drank the cold, clear water thirstily, having been in the hot sun for hours on end as the day had worn on. It was true that he had suffered nowhere near the thirst he had forced upon Frodo, but his discomfort had been considerable.  
  
When he finished drinking, Bramblethorn continued to question Frodo. "Ah. So you've come to discuss the nature of mercy? A noble pursuit, certainly."  
  
"I have come to bid you farewell, Bramblethorn," Frodo answered decisively. "That is all I desire. I wish you to go away and trouble me no more." There. The words had been spoken, plainly and without ire, a simple statement of truth and honesty.  
  
"You desire nothing more? No greater satisfaction after all that has passed between us?" Bramblethorn found himself admiring Frodo anew, and in more ways than he once did. There was more there than striking beauty and unusual grace, more than a cultured voice speaking unintelligible words in the throes of dreams.  
  
It struck him that even in the windowless room where no light had reached in from outside, Frodo had not truly been in darkness. He had been in the presence of a light of his own making, an inner glow of hope, truth, and love. A remarkable creature, indeed.  
  
"No, there is nothing more I ask, or have ever asked." Frodo wanted Bramblethorn to understand that he was not motivated by hatred or a need to avenge the wrongs his enemy had wrought against him. Perhaps one day Bramblethorn would discover that such things were needless and only led to more of the same.  
  
"Then you shall have your wish, so it seems," Bramblethorn replied. "I am told my exile is to be made permanent by all available means."  
  
"And you will not seek me out again?" Frodo didn't know why he was asking. Even if Bramblethorn swore upon the stars that he would not come to find Frodo at any time in the future, it was doubtful Frodo would have believed him.  
  
Bramblethorn's sarcastic smirk made a brief reappearance, and that slightly suggestive tone crept into his voice. "I don't think so, Frodo." He held Frodo's gaze for a moment. "We have nothing in common. As handsome a pair as we make together, I fear it just wouldn't work out."  
  
Frodo smiled in spite of himself. Some things just never changed, he mused. "Safe journey, Bramblethorn." Frodo turned to the completely dumbfounded Shirriff and collected the cup and pitcher, and walked back up the path, toward home.  
  
"And Baggins - "  
  
Frodo stopped as Bramblethorn's words reached him. Without turning around, he answered. "Yes?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
~*~The End~*~ 


	16. Author's note and AfterWords

Author's notes and after - words  
  
Much to my embarrassment, I've thanked the wrong individual in the last chapter. I've been reading too much fanfic late at night and I'm mixing up my author names. My idea-giver for chapter 15 was FrodoBaggins1982. The web link is correct. I mistakenly put in the name of another Frodo whose great stories I've been reading a bit of recently, Frodo Baggins of Bag End. Another writer of some excellent fics to be found on this site!  
  
Again to everyone, thanks for reading this story and its prequel. If you feel so inclined, the third story in the series is called "Sound, Silence and Solace." It was meant to follow the first two, which arose from a plotbunny posted at Library of Moria.  
  
LOM is a slash fic site, so there is a bit of a slash element present throughout this series. The third story will take place at Bag End with just Frodo and Sam, as Frodo deals with the emotional fallout from his ordeal. There is a little bit of Frodo/Sam involved, but nothing overly explicit. Nonetheless, if you don't want to read it for that reason, it's completely understandable.  
  
Best regards, -Mbradford 


End file.
